West of Here
by MK-ONE
Summary: Harry Potter accidentally disappeared to another place and time the night his godfather fell through the veil. Voldemort has taken over and Harry is needed now more than ever to fight the growing evil. The only trouble is that Harry Potter is no longer a teenage wizard, but a full grown territorial marshal who uses weapons of a simpler, harsher time period, somewhere- west of here.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**West of Here**

**Chapter One: Back to Oz**

Snict…Snict….Snict…Snict… Snict…

The pair stared vacantly, still struggling with their varying degrees of shock as he loaded his guns with mechanical precision, oblivious to the bodies strewn about the room.

The quiet of breaths held in fearful anticipation previously was as nothing compared to the ominous quiet that replaced the jarring violence and chaos that reigned mere moments ago. It was as if the entire territory went as still as crickets on a summer night in the presence of a predator nearby. Make no mistake that the residents of this dusty hamlet knew a predator was in their midst and were instantly vigilant of the violence that could erupt if foolishly provoked.

The marshal carried on his dread duties with grim resolve. In these parts you either kept prepared or you died unprepared. It wasn't a matter of if, but when. No matter how fast and sure you were, a misfire or empty gun could spell the doom of even the fastest, surest gun. For all that there was no one purportedly faster or surer than Marshal Jamie Black.

Despite his young age, his reputation was one that even the old timers at the barber shop brought up on regular occasion when swapping stories of hard times and hard men.

Jamie was hard, but for all that he was known to be a fair man and not easily riled, but for all that… he wasn't someone you took lightly; at least not unless you didn't want to live long enough to swap tall tales with the rest of the old codgers down at the barbershop.

Jamie gave everyone a chance, but just one chance. After that you were asked to leave-nicely. If you decided that leaving wasn't in your immediate future plans, than Jamie explained it to you. By _explaining, _I mean the benefits of a long life in greener pastures was clearly laid out for your consideration, that and the disadvantages of staying was equally _explained_ for your consideration, sometimes brutally so, dependent upon the person's ability to assimilate new information.

If after that you still insisted upon a contrary point of view to the Marshal's, well then,.. you often found yourself in one of two places.

The first being the territorial prison: Stonegate. Now Stonegate too had a reputation, one that was well known throughout most of the entire western territory. Hard men were worked until they became pliable men; ones that could be remolded into a conscientious and productive member of society that they hadn't been previously. In other words: they were broken and remade. Useless became useful. Impatient became abiding. Aggressive- gentle and so on.

When you left Stonegate you were either a new man, one that could and would contribute to society or you didn't leave, at least not in the way you envisioned.

That is to say.. you left dead; whether by a broken body brought on by endless toil, old age or uncertain acquaintances, but dead just the same.

If you went insane.. you were put down like the rabid dog you are. Even in madness you found no reprieve at Stonegate. There were no 'paid for' pardons, no escapes and certainly no releases only to return after having committed further atrocities.

Stonegate was your one chance for redemption in these parts. After Stonegate there were the territorial marshals. If you failed to redeem yourself once having left Stonegate's merciful climes, than the marshals were brought into the mix. Once a marshal was set on your trail your future outlook became muddied faster that a herd through a shallow pond.

Instead of gold or silver, cold unforgiving lead became the only metal you would ever collect and the faster you worked for it the more you'd receive.

A quick spin of the hilt bringing the barrel up to eye level followed by the click of his hammer being pulled back as he checked to make sure the barrel beneath the hammer was empty. Once satisfied the hammer was returned and the colt returned home into the holster at his right hip.

The holster itself was as black and well broke in as the boots on his feet, each for different reasons and neither having anything to do with fleeing danger. His black Stetson was pulled down to the rim of his eyes, the shadow it cast hid his face all except the cool gleam of his raptor sharp green eyes.

Despite that, the younger of the two onlookers was desperate to leap forward and pull the marshal into a rib cracking hug despite his obvious trepidation over the recent slaughter he'd witnessed, and yes,.. it had been just that- a slaughter.

Six well-armed men positioned in advantageous locations around the saloon had been as nothing to the lightning reflexes of the territorial marshal.

They had lain in wait for the marshal's arrival. Unlike others, who tried and failed to avoid pursuit until they ran their mounts into the ground, this lot had decided on plan B. They thought to avoid their just, albeit _harsh _punishment, by eliminating the hand that was sent out to deliver said punishment.

They may have succeeded initially; had they drew the attention of any other marshal save: Jamie Black. Black, though young, was the only marshal that had never failed to bring in his quarry- alive or otherwise.

Every fast gun in the territory had marked Jamie Black as the man to stake a reputation on. Every one of said deluded prowess, in the territory, was now either dead or fled. Each of them had been given a chance to walk away. Those that chose poorly had the scars that proved their bad choice. Those that chose poorly twice, well,.. let's just say that they wouldn't be complaining over any mere scars as the last one they'd received was the last one they would ever receive.

* * *

**Five minutes previous….**

"Reggie Taylor.. John Pierce… Clyde Monroe… James-Jimmie Royce…Michael Taylor and Clavin, aka Red Royce…This is Territorial Marshal Jamie Black. By the authority of territorially Judge Lucas Finch you are hereby ordered to surrender yourself to appear before Judge Finch at his earliest convenience. Disarm yourselves and come out with your hands up."

"He-He-He..What if we don't feel much like.. what was it? Oh, Yeah.. disarming ourselves and coming out with our hands up?" the one named Red challenged.

A pair of wand hands disappeared beneath a nearby table, but otherwise made no move to interfere with the unfolding drama. They would only act in defense of themselves. Though they were light wizards, this was not their fight and besides, nothing could take precedence over their mission-nothing.

"This is the only warning you will get, gentlemen. I suggest you take it." The young, but calm voice of authority returned from outside.

"Blow it out your arse!" a man with a rifle threatened as he cocked his weapon and turned over a nearby table to use as a makeshift shield.

The younger of the two wizards gave his partner a questioning look, but was met with a subtle shake of the head, staying his hand from interfering.

"There's six of them." the other argued, eyeing the criminals as they mobilized to go on the offensive and other patrons decided they had more pressing business elsewhere- perhaps in another county.

The barmaid was the only person seemingly unconcerned by the unfolding mayhem around her. If anything she looked begrudgingly expectant as she huffed and grumbled under her breath, scrubbing at her glasses with more vigor than what was required.

"If this Black is who we're searching for then let us see what time and experience has done for our young charge. If he cannot handle even these than what possible use will be in the war against Voldemort?' The elder suggested calmly in hushed tones, his blue eye twinkling in anticipation.

For six months and more he and his younger counterpart had searched in vain until stories had reached their inquisitive ears regarding the almost _magical _abilities of a young Marshal in Wyoming. Thus they found themselves in this charming hamlet: Bryer's Gulch.

The younger of the two snorted in disapproval, but otherwise made no move toward interfering, however much his instincts told him to do just that, especially given that his enhanced senses detected a scent that he hadn't noted for more than ten years.

Ten years.. it was hard to believe it was already ten years since Sirius died and Harry disappeared. Years and years spent fruitlessly searching until all hope was exhausted.

Ten years ago he'd held Harry back from going into the veil after Sirius in the Death Chamber in the Hall of Mysteries. It was now over ten years since Harry had broken free from his own grief laden arms to presumably go after Bellatrix Lestrange, only to have never been seen again.

They'd thought he'd been captured, turned to the dark even, but no,.. surely Voldemort would have gloated over and rubbed their faces in such a turn of fate.

They then thought he'd run away; his grief having gotten the better of him. So he and the order had searched the world over without the barest sign of his presence or passing by.

It was only after the unfortunate Death Eater who'd been captured within the time stream in the Hall of Time, (from that night when Harry and company stormed the ministry in a supposed rescue attempt), had finally been removed from his unending torment, that a glimmer of a clue had been gleaned regarding the possible whereabouts of one: Harry Potter.

Hermione Weasley had been instrumental in the removal of the Death Eater who was held captive in the time stream. His head going from infant to ancient and back again,.. over and over for nearly a decade before he was finally, safely removed. If one could call it that as he'd been safely removed only with a teenage head upon his mature shoulders.

Hermione had discovered that a time shift of some ten minutes had occurred, at least that was what the control panel had been set for. However, the Death Eater captured in the time stream had acted as a ripple, causing shifts in the time/space continuum. Ten minutes had been altered as the Death Eater de-aged. Ten minutes had become minus a hundred and ten years…. Not the ten minutes initially hoped for.

Given the time of the original setting, it hadn't taken much of a stretch to unravel the mystery of mysteries.

Harry had attempted to go back ten minutes in time to prevent Sirius falling through the veil only to inadvertently having got caught in the time stream and sent back a hundred and ten years, give or take the ten minutes being a matter of complete indifference at that point.

They hadn't found any evidence of Harry the world over because he no longer existed in this point in time.

Once discovered, Dumbledore had petitioned the courts and the ministry to allow the search for Harry to continue in the past.

He was met with uncertainty as many argued that the time stream itself may have already been catastrophically altered and if not; than certainly the addition of still more displaced individuals in the past would certainly accomplish that unthinkable outcome. And so;Harry Potter would remain exiled to the annals of history.

That was until Voldemort had overcome all avenues of resistance and now was on the brink of total victory over magical Europe, let alone England.

The people, those that hadn't already fled the continent, cried out in terror for a savior to rid them of their evil.

The savior they cried out for was far beyond their reach, _currently._

At the brink of defeat, the ministry had recanted, seeing little difference by destruction and subjugation at Voldemort's hands over the possible altering of the timeline spelling their doom. One was a certainty, the other a possibility.

The revelation of the ' Potter/Voldemort's prophesy' had been all the convincing Dumbledore had needed at that point.

The rest, as they say, _is history_.

* * *

Dumbledore held Remus Lupin's forearm in a death grip beneath their table. They dared not interfere lest they cause ripples that would destroy the future in its entirety. That being the case they could well return to a void, trapped in endless night for all time, or worse, a future ruled by foulest evil.

The saloon doors parted and a lean figure wearing a black Stetson that shadowed his face, peered through from between the parted doors.

He wore a dark brown duster, well-worn jeans and a pair of black dust covered boots that made them appear milky gray at best.

Hands of the pursued drifted toward pistol grips, halting nervously when the young marshal spoke out in warning.

"Last chance Royce?"

"A noose is waiting for us compliments of Finch, Black. One way's sure, the other's a sure thing." he threatened with more bravado than he currently felt.

Few men had ever stared down Jamie Black and fewer still had lived to tell it-whole.

"One way's possible, but at least worst comes to worse you'll get a last meal and maybe even a sympathetic whore before you take a hard drop and hear the muffled snap of your neck before you're off to see Jesus. My way and you'll get neither, but you'll still have to square things with Jesus after." the marshal warned.

_Some people can't see the forest for the trees_.

Hands went to holsters like all hell was riding herd on them.

The air filled with gun smoke at the deafening rapport of four colts a Winchester and a double barreled twelve gauge filled the silence of the saloon. Splinters of wood filled the air as the doors to the saloon were blasted to pieces. Windows shattered and gouges of wood tore up the walls as the gunmen emptied their weapons into the front of the saloon, leaving nothing to chance as word was the only thing worse than Jamie Black on your tail was a _wounded_ Jamie Black on your tail.

As the last deafening rapport echoed away into the countryside, a throat clearing from behind had the outlaw gang spinning on their boot heels in disbelief.

There was Jamie Black calmly sipping a drink, leaning against the far end of the bar. His eyes were shrouded by the brim of his Stetson, but the smirk of his jaw was unmistakable.

Exclamations of stunned surprise gave way to yelps of panic. Hands hastily flew to gun belts, retrieving bullets that their shaking fingers could scarcely dislodge let alone stuff into their gun's waiting chambers as fast as their fear of hell demanded.

The marshal finished his drink and returned the glass to the bar. He smoothly pushed away from the bar standing upright. With a practiced ease his hands pulled back the lapels of his duster, freeing his pair of colts. His hands slid down to loosely grip the butt of each colt jutting out of the body of each holster as he waited with grim resolve.

Bullets filled chambers and cylinders spun as hammers were pulled back and rifled barrels came up with deadly intent.

The outlaws never got off a shot despite having cocked and leveled their weapons first. Not a single round was fired from them as guns fell from hands that were now intent on trying to staunch the flow of precious blood from already dying bodies.

The marshal strode forward, stopping at the gasping form of Red Royce who was mewling despondently on his knees, his hands grasping his abdomen as blood seeped from between his trembling fingers.

"Help-p..p-please…" he begged pathetically, his haughty behavior from moments before having fled in the face of his waning mortality.

"Judge Finch and a new rope suddenly seem a better option to you, Red?" The marshal asked facetiously as he blew out the powder residue from the still smoking barrel of his left hand pistol, he'd never even drawn the right and he was purportedly right handed.

"A-Anything…" the man whined adding fretfully. "I d-don't wanna die!"

"Then you shouldn't of taken to killin , Red. You got to like it in the war and thought to make a living out of it after. Now, you're finding out the flip side aint to your liking. Tough shite! We all die, Red. You best get on with it as there aint no stopping the reaper when a man's gut shot. That dark blood's spilling out of you is from your liver and there's only one way to go from there..six feet down." The marshal promised with grim certainty.

"I…I'll see you in hell..B-Black..ughh…" with that last gasp, Red Royce pitched forward and fell face first into a puddle of his own blood.

"Most likely." Jamie Black answer his already cooling adversary.

* * *

**Present…**

His guns reloaded and re-holstered, Jamie went back to his spot at the bar and recollected his glass shooting the barmaid a pointed look.

With a weary sigh and an indulgent roll of the eyes, the bar maid refilled his glass and held out her hand expectantly.

The marshal passed her a silver coin, but her fingers made a grasping motion as she reminded..

"The damage?"

He smirked at that. Three gold coins followed the silver one which the maid snapped her hand close around before he could change his mind.

"Thanks Jamie." she chirruped, smiling for the first time.

"Sorry about the mess, Amy. " he tipped his hat, scooping up the bottle with one hand and a spare pair of glasses along with his own in the other.

"Don't be." She chastised. "Red was a pig. He and his gang of turds roughed up some of my girls pretty bad. Sally's over at Doc Haverson's getting patched up."

The marshal paused and turned back toward the matron. He set down the bottle and pulled another gold coin out from beneath his duster and placed it firmly into the matron's protesting hand, instructing..."Make sure Sally gets taken care of proper."

Reluctantly the matron accepted the offer complimenting as she did. "Always the gentleman, Jamie."

The marshal snorted derisively at that as he tipped his hat and turned back and collected the glasses and whiskey bottle.

Without any hesitation he walked over to the two waiting wizards, pulled out a chair and seated himself, pouring each of the two several fingers worth of bourbon. He tipped his glass to the two and downed his drink in a single go.

The elder sipped at his glass experimentally, his younger counterpart mimicked the marshal and paid for it as he coughed violently on the harsh liquor.

The marshal clapped his parent's last true friend on the back several times until he regained his composure.

"Can't be worse than wolfs bane potion, Remus?" he chuckled.

"Harry, it's you..it's really you?!" Remus gasped excitedly trying to peer under the brim of the marshal's hat to get a better look at his face.

"It's Jamie, Remus. There aint no Harry here, hasn't been for a long time. Besides, Harry Potter isn't a fittin name for a territorial marshal. Jamie Black sounds a lot more imposing, dontcha think?" he smirked at that.

"Indeed yes." Dumbledore agreed, his own eyes twinkly madly as he continued to sip at his drink, deciding he liked it more and more with each trial.

Remus was trying desperately to keep from jumping forward and engulfing his once pseudo nephew in a rib cracking hug. He was held at bay by the dark vibe coming off of Jamie Black in that he didn't give the impression that he would appreciate such a gesture.

They had expected to find a much younger and far more gracious Harry Potter, but time is an uncertain thing and despite their best efforts they found their wayward savior grown and much changed from the boy they once knew.

Harry Potter didn't carry a wand, but a pair of guns, something that was anathema to any self-respecting wizard.

Once each had a chance to organize their thoughts: Albus started the conversation, or in his case- recrimination.

"Was it necessary to kill these men? Were there no more readily available and more morally acceptable alternatives than just common murder?" he both accused and lectured in the same breath.

His views were unasked for and by his supposed charge's reaction-unwanted.

"I'm no longer a school boy in your charge so save your lecture for your awe struck, if not misguided, students and leave the work of men to men-bureaucrat." He rebuffed with a distasteful sneer. "I was ordered to bring in these men alive if possible, dead if necessary, but either way- death was in their imminent future. We give just one chance, around these parts, to redeem yourself. You blow it, you die. Either a public hanging or a more violent, albeit, more expedient death awaits those the marshals are tasked with bringing to justice. Around these parts you don't buy or connive your way to freedom. You earn it. After that it's up to you whether or not it's a permanent thing or merely temporary. Bottom line, Dumble-do-gooder.. keep your pansy arse morality standards to yourself and shut your furry gab over things your don't and can't possibly understand." he bit off warningly that last.

Dumbledore's eyes went wide in surprise, shocked that for the first time in recent memory anyone had dared challenge his authority let alone not show him the utmost respect.

This was not the pliable and appreciative Harry Potter he'd expected to find.

"Harry..!" Remus interjected, obviously aghast at the way his mentor was being received. " You should show the headmaster more respect. He.."

Jamie Black held up an impatient hand halting Remus' reprimand. "He aint my headmaster, nor is he the judge I answer to. He's a nosy old man whose here only because he wants something, not because he wants to give something. Let me guess… trouble with Tom Riddle, aka-Voldemort?" he sneered suspiciously, knowing before they could answer that he'd hit the mark. A long time ago he came to the realization that no one was coming to rescue him and if they did, it was only because they wanted something, not because they actually gave a hang about him in the first place.

Remus nodded his head solemnly, but Dumbledore took up the opportunity to plead their case believing he could work on Harry's compassion as he'd done on numerous occasions as a child.

"Tom Riddle is slowly, but inexorably taking over Europe whilst England grows weaker by the day fighting a losing battle to try and hold his forces in check, let alone actually repel or even defeat the man. The Weasleys are living at headquarters as the Burrow was destroyed in a firefight that took both Percy and Charles leaving the rest of them homeless and despondent. Hermione's parents were killed shortly after you disappeared and she's never been quite the same since, having already taken your loss very hard. Neville Longbottom lost an arm in one such encounter with Death Eaters, but he and Luna are still fighting the good fight and…"

Dumbledore halted his pitch at Jamie Black's raised a hand to desist.

"Not my problem." he commented with grim resolve.

"Not your problem?" Remus blurted aghast, raising his voice to press on. "Not your problem?! This is your home and your friends we're talking about. You can't possibly turn your back on…"

Jamie talked over the man, Remus' tirade dying in his throat. "Not-my-problem." He pressed on with deliberate assuredness. "They're not even born yet and I'm long since out of sight and out of mind. Tell you what though? Since you've got such a hard on for all things Voldemort; I'll make a point of visiting the bugger after he hatches and putting him out of your misery. So, head on back and see what's what in a "Voldemort free world" when you get there." That said, he pushed himself back from the table and calmly walked away before either could even begin to entreat him further. By that their next gambit would be either to beg , coerece or downright threaten, though what they could possibly use as leverage was another matter entirely.

Jamie tipped his hat to the barmaid on his way out, who shot him a wan smile and a shake of the head for his trouble.

Moments later the sound of hooves trotting away heralded his departure from the two shocked wizards who were still contemplating Jamie Black's dread intention.

* * *

Jamie rose and re-holstered the colt he kept to hand under his pillow whilst he slept. Only a fool kept his guns out of reach whilst sleeping. The people he dealt with weren't big on common courtesy ie.. they'd shot you in the back or kill you in your sleep rather than meeting you face to face.

These were desperados, not duelists.

Using a hand pump at his kitchen sink he washed his close cropped hair and face along with any other parts he could readily reach.

His cabin wasn't much, but it was his. He had an eat in kitchen with modern conveniences such as a magical cooling cupboard and a hand pump to draw water directly from his well.

A small but comfortable living room with leather sofa and arm chair before a stone fireplace and one bedroom with a magical water closet and magical laundry attached.

It wasn't elegant, but it was comfortable and it was his along with the dozen acres of land it sat on which included plenty of water access and a variety of magical and non-magical game ; one such he'd developed a working relationship if not friend ship with.

Donning buckskin pants, wool shirt and snakeskin boots he belted his holster on and tied down his guns to ease the action of his draw primarily, but also to not hinder movement if pursuit was required.

Black Stetson pulled down low over his brow he went out to greet the new days adventure.

The adventure was unfortunately waiting for him when he opened the door.

"Pleasant day to you, Har, er.. I mean Marshal Black." Dumbledore hastily amended at seeing the immediate glare his use of his given name instilled.

By the look of things, the two had spent the better part of sunrise waiting for him to emerge from his cabin as they were making themselves to home on his porch furniture, taking the liberty of turning the furniture toward his doorway so as not to leave their backs exposed.

He had to give them one for being wisely cautious.

"Can't you find something better to do with yourselves?" he scowled irritably. "I said I'll take care of Voldemort when the time comes and I will. As that should readily conclude our business piss off and go bother somebody who gives a rat's fart for your hardship."

He tipped his hat and step down off his porch stair intent on leaving them where they stood for however long they decided to stand there doing nothing. He could care less how long that was as he was confident they couldn't breach the wards on his cabin and he intended to be gone for the next month or so anyway.

"We did go back and things are the same; Voldemort's still alive." Remus complained hollowly.

Black stopped in his tracks, his back stiffening at that bit of information. He was surprised given the fact that he had truly intended to kill the bastard and wasn't just blowing smoke to get the pair off his back.

He never turned around, but spoke slowly and succinctly so as there would be no misunderstanding between them.

"That means I didn't survive long enough to finish him first."

"Or you just didn't bother to try?" Remus suggested darkly.

Black turned around slowly at that and fixed Remus with a steely gaze that most would avoid at all costs around these parts.

"I don't say what I don't mean, unlike this old geezer here." He thumbed in Dumbledore's direction for emphasis, inwardly gladdened to see that his intentional barb unsettled the old man.

Yes, he knew that Dumbledore had been setting him up to be his willing dupe all along.

Before Dumbledore could try to needlessly diffuse his ire with some feigned grandfatherly act, he asked pointedly: "So what now?"

Dumbledore recited the prophesy verbatim following with: "As you can plainly see it is beholden of you to come back with us and face your destiny in destroying Voldemort as you were prophesized to do." Dumbledore suggested with nothing of a suggestion, but more of a demand in his voice.

Black tipped his hat up so they could see the incredulous look in his eyes. "It says nothing of the sort. Only that I have _the power_ to do it, not that I'll succeed. If I didn't make it to his first birthday party than obviously I wasn't meant to succeed in the first place. As usual Dumbles, you're interpreting things to suit yourself for your own warped version of the "Greater Good". He bit of contemptuously drawing quotation marks in the air.

Acting shocked and dismayed which he probably was but to a lesser extent Dumbledore beseeched in his best grandfatherly voice. "I have only ever done what I felt was necessary for the benefit of all concerned and while I may not have done exactly well by you, Harry, I fail to see what I could have possibly done to have earned such contempt for my person on your part?"

"Sure you do?' Black returned sarcastically. "I'm supposed to believe that the great puppeteer suddenly doesn't know what strings he pulled which directly destroyed several lives? You must think me the foolishly naïve fifth year I once was? I suppose it messed up your game plan finding not a pliable boy, but a full grown and fully trained wizard **not** waiting for your overdue arrival to save the day?"

"Harry,.. I,.. please you wound me.. I…" Dumbledore's stuttering attempt to implore forgiveness or at the least forbearance was abruptly cut off.

"Save it. I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, let alone fight your battles for you."

Dumbledore stood staring blankly, his mouth wordlessly working through the confusion over someone not wholeheartedly accepting him at his word, let alone not readily acquiescing to his requests without a thought to the contrary.

This was new and unexplored territory to the famed "Leader of the Light".

His eyes softening slightly, Black turned his attention to Dumbledore's stunned companion. "I can't say it isn't nice to see you once again Remus, though I am sorry for your lot, but I won't help. I did that once and many times over. All I have to show for my trouble is an empty family tree. My advice to you is to get out and explore new horizons. Britain maybe where magic began, but it's not where it ends, not by a long shot. There are other people and other cultures that are for more understanding than dreary old England. Find acceptance, Remus. Grab on with both hands and never let go. Give yourself the life you deserve, not the life that England's intolerance forces upon you and yours."

That said, Black tipped his hat and turned to leave. He put his fingers to his lips and blew a piercing whistle that echoed out into the hillside.

"Har.. er.. I mean Jamie wait, I have something for you?" Remus hastily amended his name, holding out a note for his consideration.

Black eyed the note suspiciously before blowing out a a long suffering sigh and accepting the missive.

"Hermione, right?' he asked, already knowing the answer as he recognized the penmanship denoting his given name.

Remus nodded hopefully.

Unfolding the note he found a short but poignant reminder of what once was.

**Dearest Harry,…**

**I know from talking with Remus and Professor Dumbledore that you have chosen to remain in the past and that you have pledged yourself toward eliminating Voldemort before he grows into the monster he will become.**

**The fact that you are reading this now shows that you were unsuccessful in the attempt. Knowing you, as I once and hope still do; this means you either died preceding his birth or in the attempt.**

**Either way, our lives here are still a misery. Every day the shadow Voldemort casts grows darker, more cold and unforgiving. Every day our numbers decrease and soon we will join our fallen family and friends. I do not say this to guilt you or try to manipulate you, I merely state the facts of what is and what soon will be.**

**Perhaps I am even dead by the time you read this; a strange concept as by your timeline I have yet to be born?**

**I wish I could go back in time too, but our lives and our fate are here. My parents lived and died here and I feel I owe it to them to fight in their memory. I respect your decision and I don't blame you, not for a second. You did all that could have been expected of you and far more than anyone should have ever expected from a teenage wizard.**

**I hope you find in the past what you were denied in the future, Harry. The one consolation I take with me is knowing that when I die; you will already be on the other side waiting for me. That thought comforts me more than I can possibly express in a few written words.**

**Until we meet again,… all my love, 'Mione**

It had been ten years. Ten long, lonely, difficult years and now it was as if his once friends were reaching out to him and the ministerial battle had taken place only yesterday. In his own defense, he had forgotten what it was to be needed, cherished even, by the friends you made and called your family upon a time.

That time was over a hundred years away, but it still happened, or would happen. Either way, they were there and they needed him.

He didn't owe anyone anything here. He made sure of that as he paid his debts when he made them or as soon as possible thereafter.

He did owe his friends something though. They had fought and suffered without even having been asked to help. They had done so because they were his friends.

No, they are his friends. Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny and Luna were his friends and like before, only in reverse; they weren't asking, but could he do less than what they had done freely and of their own accord for him?

He couldn't.

Carefully he folded up Hermione's note and tucked it into his shirt's chest pocket.

To Remus he instructed: "I'll be coming back with you Remus. I need a few days to put my affairs in order, though. "

"Of course, Harry, er.. Jamie,.. and thank you." Remus returned gratefully his face looking extremely relieved by this change of heart.

"Excellent, Excellent.."Dumbledore began to bluster clapping his hands together expectantly.

"Don't get you knickers in a twist old man. I'm not going back to make you look good and there are conditions to my assistance."

Dumbledore visibly deflated at that. "Conditions?' he asked worriedly.

Black nodded. "I take care of Voldemort my way, in my own time. That done, I'm returned here to this time and never bothered by you and yours again."

"But Harry, you can't expect that.." Dumbledore began to argue , but was cut off before he could get up a head of steam.

"No interference and I return here after the job is done, nonnegotiable. " he reminded sharply.

"If I refuse?' Dumbledore responded coolly, fingering his wand to emphasize his intention to take Harry with him either way.

"Then Remus will have to make do with taking your corpse back in my stead." Black warned lowering his palms to just above the handles of his colts.

For split second Dumbledore contemplated stunning the young man and returning him against his will.

For split second, Black thought Dumbledore was about to find out that his expiration date had at last; come do.

Along those lines he gave the old man fair warning. "You'll be gasping out your last trying to plug the leak in your guts before your wand tip even starts to glow."

Deciding discretion was the better part of valor; Dumbledore lived up to his reputation and _wisely_ pocketed his wand within his robes.

"Agreed" Dumbledore accepted the terms with a note of resignation.

"I assume you're still head of the Wizengamot?' Black inquired.

"I am" the old man acknowledged.

"Then I want it in writing. Again, nonnegotiable." Black insisted.

Sighing wearily, Dumbledore withdrew some already prepared documentation from his robes and proffered them cautiously, in a non-threatening manner, forward.

With an incredulous snort, Black cautiously waved a hand over the document, startling the two wizards when the document glowed blue indicating it was free of hexes, port keys and the like.

They were stunned speechless by such a casual display of wandless magics. Clearly there was more to Black than either had even remotely considered.

Black accepted the document and proceeded to read it.

He hadn't even started before Remus asked the obvious. "You can do wandless magic?"

"Obviously" Black returned absently as he carefully continued reading the document.

"Then why even bother with-_guns_?" Remus blurted out that last as if it were vile to the tongue.

"Looks can be deceiving." Black replied mysteriously. He'd finished the document and murmured: "Acceptable", pocketing the document alongside Hermione's missive.

Remus was still waiting for more of an explanation, but was wasting his time; Dumbledore knew. He'd spent his life dealing with and being cautious of such men as Jamie Black was proving to be and he was right in that; this was not Harry Potter. This was indeed: Jamie Black.

They had badly misjudged and misinterpreted their quarry from the onset. It was not a mistake that Dumbledore intended to make again. Begrudgingly, he was beginning to respect Mr. Black as was his due.

"Alright, I've got things to do and places to be. Meet me here at first light three days from now. You don't show, I don't go, which will be fine and dandy by me." He was about to abruptly turn away in dismissal as he intended to go about his business, but thought better of it and held back, turning toward Remus. He tapped his shoulder with his palm and a brief red glow enveloped Remus for a split second, fading as abruptly as it came.

Before Remus could ask, he explained.. "I've set the wards to accept you. You're welcome to stay here if you like." That said he turned his attention to an anticipating Dumbledore. "You aint welcome in the house, so it's the stables; if Shade will have ya?"

Dumbledore's mustached mouth drooped in disappointment, but he recovered slightly to venture,.. "er, Shade?"

"My horse." Black smirked, enjoying the look of outrage that ghosted across the old man's face.

"ah, couldn't he just room with me,.."Remus came to the old man's rescue.

"No" Black cut him off without a moments consideration.

"He aint nosin about my place unsupervised. Bad enough that Shade has to put up with him as it is, though I recon he'll keep the old goat in line well enough." At that, Jamie Black laughed conspiratorially and put his fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle.

A night black mare with glowing red eyes whinnied as it galloped up from around the edge of the cabin. The mare came to a halt directly in front of Black and nudged him fondly with its snout.

"There's a good girl." he complimented fondly patting her flank with one hand as his other hand slipped into his pocket and retrieved a cube of sugar to treat his mare with.

The two wizards stared goggling at the horse, their eyes sliding back and forth between the marshal and his mount in stunned disbelief.

Finally Remus blurted out the obvious. "A night mare!"

"Isn't she a beauty, takes after her mother. Which reminds me,.. Shade, I'm going over to the res for a spell, you wanta come along and visit you're kin cause otherwise you'll have to share your stable with that furry old lady over there?". He thumbed toward Dumbledore who held a distinct look of waning patience, but otherwise held his tongue.

It would not due to be upsetting Black lest he return home empty handed again. That, and he was decidedly wary of Mr. Black's talents. Judging by his reflexes and speed with the firearms he carried, Dumbledore was not wanting to risk sample either those or any other talents as yet unrevealed.

The way the boy he once knew carried himself as an adult bespoke someone who was entirely confident in his abilities.

All that aside, there was no way that he was going to share any sort of confined space with something as notably unpredictable as a nightmare. They were outlawed in Britain and with good reason.

Nightmares were said to be able to run so fast that they could even traverse water for short distances. They were legendarily temperamental and rarely if ever bonded with humans, not that any self-respecting wizard would foolishly seek their company.

Nightmares, as their names implied, also had the ability to enter dreams and act as a spirit guide . The reason they were named as such was because they often revealed the absolute worst possible present and future probabilities, so much so, that many of their hosts died in their sleep from heart failure.

It was with a new found respect that Dumbledore considered Marshal Black as historically; only the pure of heart could risk bonding with nightmares and survive continued encounters for any length of time without suffering lethally from the experience. That, and or, Harry Potter's legendary courage was on a scale as yet unheard of.

Shade eyed the old man who fixed her with his most innocently innocuous expression. Shade snorted a few times, sniffing the air around Dumbledore before decidedly shaking her head in the absolute negative as she snorted in absolute contempt over the prospect.

Dumbledore, despite his relief, showed a hint of his own likewise feelings on the matter in that he wanted nothing to do with the er,.. _horse._

Black settled his mount with several reassuring strokes along its gleaming neck. "Can't say as I blame ya, the old geezer use to give me nightmares too."

"Alright then, fetch your saddle and we'll be on our way." he instructed and the horse trotted off happily with an added swish of its tail in Dumbledore's direction to show its continued disdain.

"Well really?" The old man grumped offended.

"Good judge of character, nightmares." Black chuckled darkly.

The mare returned with the saddle in question dangling from its maw like a retriever bringing its master the evening newspaper.

Black strapped on the saddle whilst his mount waited patiently. No sooner was the saddle cinched into place before he pulled himself up into the saddle, tipped his hat in Remus's direction and clicked his tongue whilst giving the reins a quick shake. The mare whinnied, rearing up, pawing it's hooves at the air before launching forward in full gallop. A blink of an eye later, no more than a dust cloud on the horizon signaled their departure, leaving the two wizards gapping in consternation.

Remus availed himself of his host's hospitality finding his cabin a charmingly comfortable, if somewhat quaint lodging. He passed the time reading from Black's humble though somewhat thoroughly well stocked library which consisted of a three shelved case built into one wall, but for all that he'd managed to collect many ancient texts on magical theory and practice, along with a smattering of many literary classics.

Additionally, there were several manuscripts that appeared written in Black's own hand, ( if memory served regarding Harry's scrawl),though the language was something he couldn't begin to decipher, had it not been for a few strategically well drawn pictograms which provided clues to specific spells and conjurations. Many of the works appeared to center on more spirit form of magical practices raising Remus suspicions regarding just what his friend's son had been up to these past many years.

What he didn't know but suspected, was that Harry Potter had hardly been idly in the time he was disconnected from his previous life.

He'd grown up and had definitely grown out in the time he'd disappeared as a grief stricken fifth year to the young, but well matured and highly competent man they'd surprisingly found.

The only question was is if he was still a practicing wizard or had he foregone magic for a simpler, more direct means to an end. He was after all, for all intents and purposes, living in a more rustic era.

Albus was greatly troubled by one: Jamie Black, Remus far less so though neither knew very little about him other than what they based on the boy he'd once been by comparison to their rudimentary first impressions of the man he now was.

Albus based his opinion thus far primarily on what he'd viewed in that Marshal Jamie Black was a man of intense, crude violence. At least that's what he perceived to be the case. His version of the "the greater good" was that, _his version_. Many of the Order, Remus included, had found to their regret that Albus Dumbledore's archaic notions of perpetual forgiveness for heinous crimes had contributed greatly to their current predicament. They were losing a war to criminals that had been incarcerated time and again only to either buy their way to freedom or just plan escape confinement to commit further atrocities and get no more than the same previous sentence once apprehended and thereby repeat the cycle over and again.

Remus had great respect for Albus Dumbledore and all he'd accomplished and attempted to accomplish, but for all that; he was not who and what they needed if they had any chance for their society's survival. There was a reason Harry Potter was named in _the prophesy_ to defeat Voldemort. Just as there was a reason that Albus Dumbledore was not the 'Chosen One'. That reason had nothing to do with age or infirmity, but with ability and along those lines the conviction to win a brutal war by whatever means necessary.

Voldemort was a cruel megalomaniac with a sadistic streak a mile wide. Monsters of Voldemort's caliber were not defeated mercifully or moralistically for that matter. Rabid dogs were put down harshly and expediently for a reason.

Remus saw with more than his eyes; he saw with his heart. He saw the boy he once knew in the man. He saw first and foremost a survivor. He couldn't fathom how Harry could have survived being displaced a hundred plus years into a simpler yet harsher time period with no viable means of support, not even a completed education to fall back on and certainly not one that could have prepared him for this drastic a change. Most would have ended the victim of fate or taken their own life out of fear and despair. Harry though, Harry was made of sterner stuff.

Next and quite telling; Harry had taken the names of his two fathers and made them his own. Remus knew that this had little to do with how Jamie Black rolled off the tongue and more to do with honor and remembrance.

Odd, that, given that James and Sirius had yet to be born yet their child claimed their names to remember them. Yes, odd, for anyone but Harry Potter.

Remus had no qualms in calling him Jamie Black as he preferred. He was the product of two men he admired. Yes, Remus saw with his heart and what he saw thus far was by no means a disappointment.

Harry may not show Albus Dumbledore any respect; which immediately made him unworthy in the elder man's eyes, but then again, maybe Harry had good reason for the way he felt and acted.

One could claim on one hand that their friends and family had survived thus far as a result of Dumbledore's guidance. On the other hand; one could claim they'd suffered the losses they had directly due to the old man's mistakes.

It was more than that though,; Harry seemed to instinctively dislike Dumbledore from the moment they reconnected. Apparently Harry had done some soul searching as he matured and the end result left Dumbledore wanting in his eyes.

Yes, apparently Harry had come to the same conclusion as many of the Order , only it had taken him far less time to do so.

Tomorrow would prove to be an interesting day once they returned to England in the present.

* * *

**Tomorrow**

**Sploosh**

"Ack Gaaaa!" A drenched Dumbledore came awake gasping and holding his chest as if to ward off a cardiac arrest.

"Wake up ya fuzzy slacker. Mornings half gone and you're still a bed?" "Jamie Black scolded tossing the now empty water bucket aside.

"It's the middle of the night?!" Dumbledore complained, pointing at the starlit sky outside the barn's open shuttered window.

"England's eight hours ahead of our present location or did you fancy returning in the middle of the night and trying to explain our _after hou_r presence to the Unspeakables on guard. Probably end up locked in a holding cell? Not that it wouldn't solve the problem of what to do with a useless old cogger like you once we return, but me,.. I've got better things to do then to monitor your senile old arse."

"Now see here?" Dumbledore blustered indignantly, his eyes ablaze and the air crackling with magical discharge around him. "You'' start showing me the proper respect and I mean right now…urp!" Dumbledore's eyes crossed staring down the barrel of one of Jamie Black's colts. He didn't know what he found more unsettling; the fact that someone, anyone, was actually daring to threaten him or the fact that Black had moved so fast that he hadn't even registered the movement until far too late to prevent his current predicament.

"Save your intimidation tactics for school children you decrepit old bungler." Jamie pulled back the barrel from beneath Dumbledore's nose and spun the colt backward at a terrifying speed, sliding it, without a hitch, into its holstered home.

Dumbledore blinked twice in shocked surprise. He hadn't thought it possible that anyone could move so quickly, not even a former seeker with Harry Potter's exceptional reflexes.

How he wished he showed such familiarity with a wand. They might actually have a chance to win the war if that were the case.

He couldn't know how wrong he was on both counts.

Dumbledore drew and displayed his wand slowly in a non-threatening manner, mindful of Black's narrowed eyes watching his intentions closely. He waved his wand and dried his sodden moon and star robes.

"All ready to go, my boy." He pronounced in his best grandfatherly tone and re-pocketing his wand.

Black rolled his eyes. "I was hoping those were pajamas." he groused. "I see you still dress like you're going to some medieval costume ball, and I aint "your boy"." He warned, enjoying the way the old man's moustache drooped on both counts.

Black was dressed in heavy jeans with dark brown, near black boots that matched the color of his Stetson hat and the scaled duster he was wearing. The lapels of his duster were pulled back over the holsters of his colts, freeing the action. He wore a dark, near black green cavalry shirt with golden buttons securing one flap over the other that could be opened in warmer weather and buttoned back on the other side of his chest. He wore a gleaming golden badge over his heart. The badge was unlike the one they first saw him wearing, but Dumbledore failed to take in account that the inscription too was different and not just the color.

Jamie turned away from Dumbledore without comment, fully expecting the headmaster to follow in his wake.

Much to the chagrin of the headmaster, he did just that.

Black paused to heft a, well broke, saddle up over his left shoulder and hold it by it horn with his left hand. He did so with surprising ease despite what was probably a good seventy-five pounds of leather and silver accent buckled fastenings.

"Surely you don't intend to try and bring your mount back with us?" Dumbledore gapped incredulously, thinking to take the opportunity to enter into lecture mode and put the insufferable man in his place.

"The time portal is only calibrated for we three individuals and the added mass of a horse could see us fused in death at worse or hopelessly castaway in another time and place."

"Don't be daft." Black admonished with a roll of his eyes, turning away disgustedly from Dumbledore as he moved to the door of his barn and called back over his shoulder…

"The saddle's for you, ya stupid old mule." He chuckled darkly, leaving Dumbledore shocked into speechlessness.

* * *

**Present**

The portal opened with a deafening crack like the fabric of the very universe was tearing open- and so it was. Blueish-white light filled the chamber as three man shaped forms walked forward, their shapes solidifying and becoming more distinct as they seemed to be walking right out of the afterlife.

The figure in the middle was larger and more indistinct than the other two and Hermione feared that something had gone wrong in her calculations causing some form of fused mutation, or perhaps they had mistakenly tried to bring back two persons instead of one thereby corrupting the time steam calibration.

Her worry, she realized, was misplaced as what did it all matter anyway. It was far too late and they were all dead already.

The light paled and winked out leaving those present in the time chamber to shake their heads trying to dispel the cobwebs and flashes before their over stimulated eyes.

When their vision cleared, a black uniformed Hermione Granger sighed both in relief and disappointment that she had performed her task correctly and had safely, or _supposedly safely,_ returned the three to their present time. The indistinct blob, she realized, was a heavily jacketed man with a cowboy hat holding, surprisingly, a saddle over his left shoulder.

She couldn't see his face until his hat tipped upward and intense green eyes caught her own liquid brown ones.

Her breath hitched in recognition. Despite the endless years that had separated them, she would have known those eyes anywhere.

No longer painfully thin and drawn, a broad shouldered, lean Harry Potter stood before her. His face was a tad on the thin side , but still full with high cheek bones and a strong jaw.

The cute boy he'd once been had grown into a handsome, rugged man.

As ecstatic as she was to see him, she wished he hadn't of come. The warning of which was reflected in her eyes.

Piercing green eyes narrowed suspiciously as his nostrils flared catching the scent in the room even faster than Remus' werewolf enhanced senses did.

According to his senses there was only one female in the room as his eyes could plainly see, but there was four other men that he couldn't see as well.

Two in front of them, one to either side of Hermione as her shifting eyes indicated and if he were a betting man, which he was, there were two stationed just behind, all of them under invisibility cloaks.

Black dropped his saddle and before it hit the ground he had already drew his colts. The rapport echoed deafeningly through the stone chamber as both pistols fired and blood sprayed out of nowhere to either side of Hermione who was too shocked to move. That's what Black originally thought in that split second before he launched himself into the air, twisting around as he flew bodily toward Hermione.

He had realized that she was under a _petrification curse_ and could neither move nor defend herself. His body shielded her own as he fired several times toward the left rear wall behind where they had emerged, Remus already firing his wand into the right rear wall, his enhanced sense of smell betraying the general location of his adversary.

A_ reductor curse_ caught the cloaked Death Eater, but didn't put him down as he managed to fire off a cutting hex that caught Black's right shoulder spraying blood into the face of a petrified Hermione who was silently screaming in both fear and worry for her once friend.

_Once friend?_ She hated herself for even thinking of their friendship in the past tense. There's was the sort of friendship that transcended time as current events now indicated. They had been and always would be the best of friends.

Twisting back from the impact, Black bit back a growl and fired off a hurried shot in the spot where he'd seen the spell originate and to the left and down, tracking the direction of Remus' spell and extrapolating the angle of decent that a body would fall after having been hit by said spell. He was rewarded by a scream cut short and the sound of a body falling dead immediately after his third shot.

"Remus?" he called out in concern.

"I'm alright. I wasn't hit." Remus growled predatorily his senses still on high alert.

Jamie nodded in relief before barking out at an obviously appalled Dumbledore. "Make yourself useful and save your morality speeches for later. Cover the door and cut down anyone that you even suspect has dubious intentions." In after thought he added. "Don't worry about saving any souls, just move them along to the next "great adventure". Jamie chuckled darkly at that.

He nodded Remus toward the spray of blood where his bullets had intersected idiots and Remus immediately set about de-cloaking and checking their adversaries.

That done and Dumbledore finally getting his head out of his arse, Jamie turned his attention on Hermione whose eyes were both silently pleading for release and still held a profound sense of worry for him and his.

He smiled disarmingly before signaling for secrecy by putting a finger to his lips before waving a hand and a hastily cast _cleaning charm_ instantly cleaned off the blood splatter. He then touched her forehead and uttered a word in a strange language that she couldn't identify, but whatever he did; she could feel the _paralyzing curse_ dissipate and she instantly launched herself into his arms sobbing in both worry and relief.

The words just poured out of her as she vented her worry, relief, fears and a multitude of emotions, not the least of which was joy at reuniting with her lost friend.

"Oh, God.. I prayed you wouldn't come and now.. you're hurt. I-It's too late.. the ministry's already fallen. Voldemort tortured the minister and found out our plan. I'm sorry I couldn't warn you. I tried to hold them off, but one of them eventually stunned me and then…then you came and I thought I'd have to watch them murder you.. I was so s-scared.." she hiccoughed, the words just pouring out of her mouth as tears fell from worried eyes.

"Shush, now." he cooed gently, holding her tight and shushing her fears. "I'm just fine and glad I came if only to keep you from getting killed ..or worse." he added pointedly, silently berating himself for his slip as she stiffened at the image his words put in her mind.

Changing tact he gently pulled back to admire the fretting woman with an appraising eye.

"M'ione you're beautiful. I always knew you'd be a stunner one day. Ron's a lucky fella, that is if he's got his head outta his arse yet?"

"Ron, but we haven't told anyone and .. there's a war on we've no time for any romantic.." Hermione blustered self-consciously smoothing down her rumpled uniform with one trembling hand while the other tried to comb through her disheveled chestnut locks.

"Oh the hell with that." Black admonished. There's always time for a kiss here and tickle there, especially if there's a "war on". He drew quotation marks in the air, chuckling as she blushed under his scrutiny.

"Same old M'ione,.. only fooling yourself, God love you for it." He walked around his fidgeting friend eyeing her critically.

"Nice and lean, long legs and firm backside by the looks of it. Yesiree, you've grown into a fine filly alright."

"What?!" Hermione gasped in mortification as Harry continued his appraisal undaunted by her bristling. " make a good ride with the right training put in…" he commented off handedly, more to himself than her.

"Of all the nerve!" Hermione spun around covering her bum with one hand and the other poised to slap him across the face.

He caught her hand without the slightest effort complimenting. "There's the M'ione I remember, but save your claws for the Dung Eaters as I'm sure there's more scattered about that need our immediate attention." He smirked throwing her a wink that clearly stated a "Harry Potter" type adventure was about to begin.

She gulped hopefully, (and worriedly), at that, before utterly deflating. "I wish but it's too late. They've taken the ministry and the Dark Lord has appointed himself minister. England's though. Everyone we know has already fled its shores. I would've left myself when the last battle started, but I couldn't, you were suppose…" he words trailed off fretfully, but he caught the jist of it.

She would have fled with the Weasley's if she hadn't of had to make sure that he had a chance to arrive without being immediately murdered.

He grabbed up her hands and placed a kiss of both appreciation and affection to the back of her hands.

Releasing her hands he set about discarding his used brass and reloading his pistols with a practiced ease that was frightening.

Once finished he ran the cylinders of each down the length of his arm checking as they spun that each held a bullet in readiness.

"So it's just us then?" he commented off handily as he scrutinized each gun before re-holstering and moving on to the next. He held two colts at his hips and another colt was holstered under each arm. He made sure the draw of each was unhindered and once satisfied he turned his attention toward the tear in the shoulder of his coat.

"Is it bad?" Hermione asked worriedly moving toward his shoulder with reaching hands.

"Hell yes, I just made the damn thing and _side winders_ aint easy to come by in these parts." He groused as he scrutinized the gash in his shoulder.

"Not the coat, your arm-_side winders_?! Hermione gasped in alarm suddenly catching the reference to the hide his coat was supposedly made of. "You mean the snakes that can supposedly fly and spit venom that's acidic? But they're supposed to be extinct?"

He snorted at that. "Like I said, hard to come by." He took a pinch of something that was yellow and pasty out of a leather pouch he wore around his neck and pressed it into the wound in his shoulder, hissing in pain, before catching himself and sheepishly putting a finger to his lips calling for secrecy, mumbling.. "Tough guy" to which Hermione rolled her eyes.

After a moment he sighed in relief and then proceeded to wave his hand over the tear in his scaly coat and it closed and sealed right before her startled eyes. She was further shocked that the scales were in perfect alignment, something that she couldn't have repaired so perfectly even on her best day and she considered herself quite adept with a wand.

She chanced a look back toward the headmaster and Remus who were watching the hall and checking the fallen respectively, oblivious to his display of wandless magic, something that was theoretically impossible.

He caught her eye and again, put his finger to his lips calling for secrecy. Haltingly she nodded her agreement.

"This one's still alive." Remus called out, turning over a groaning Death Eater that had a bullet wound in his upper right shoulder and another gash along the ribs on that side.

"Is he now?" Black acknowledged in feral delight, smiling predatorily.

He stepped over toward the pair, with Hermione in tow, just as Remus was pulling off the groaning man's Death Eater mask and pitching it to the side as if it soiled his hand to touch it.

"Flint" Remus acknowledged, remembering his once student from years ago.

"Hey ya, Flint." Black greeted as he tipped up his hat to expose more of his face for the Death Eater's recognition.

"Potter" Flint spat back in disgust, although his eyes took on a fearful, wary edge despite his tone.

Black returned a lopsided grin, please to be remembered. "Actually it's Black now, but that isn't really gonna matter to you. No sir, what's about to occupy your undivided attention is the questions I ask and the either positive or negative reinforcement you receive as a direct result to how you do or do not answer said questions."

Remus snorted half a laugh in appreciation to that, whilst Dumbledore vented his outrage in "Mr. Potter?!"

Before he could begin yet another unwanted lecture, Harry drew his gun left handed and had it pointed at Dumbledore's head without even having to look in his direction, knowing his aim was spot on. His undivided attention was currently occupied with watching Flint squirm.

"I've already made my feeling known regarding unwanted criticism." He cocked his revolver meaningfully and added. "Or had you forgotten?"

A gulp and a hurried shuffling of feet as the headmaster returned to his post was all the answer he required, and much more appreciated than any verbal apologies.

"Harry,.. you can't just threaten to.." Hermione began to plea in the headmaster's behalf.

"Leave war to warriors, Hermione." he cautioned, re-holstering his gun without taking his glaring eyes from Flint's cringing form.

"How many are you and what's the current location of that turd you zealots so blindly follow?"

"The Dark Lord will kill you all. You'll beg for release a thousand times before he finally grants oblivion." Flint blustered like the fallen bully he was.

Harry snorted at that. "Talk about a bad apple not falloing too far from the diseased tree?"

Considering Flint with a calculating eye before reaching a decision and sighing in resignation, he promptly stuck a finger right into the bullet hole in the Death Eater's shoulder.

"Argghhhh!" The Death eater screamed and convulsed, blood and spittle dribbling from his mouth as he thrashed and bucked, trying to pull away from the maddening pain, but Black's finger held him in place like a pinned insect.

After several long minutes filled with Hermione gasping in shock and Dumbledore blustering impotently in protest from behind, Black withdrew his finger, wiping the blood and gristle on Flint's Death Eater robes with a casual disregard that was horrifying to the fallen man. In those moments; Flint realized he was soon to learn the true meaning of agony. Something he had far too often instilled in others, but was finally about to fully appreciate the knowledge first hand from the victim's point of view.

Now, when it was already too late, he was considering his life choices.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time, Flint, and if I don't get a concise and immediate answer, I'm gonna take out that bullet and stick it in the other side, after that, I'm gonna get creative." He paused and gazed deeply into the terrified man's eyes, willing him to see the dread certainty of what he promised he would deliver and in spades.

One satisfied that the lesson had sunk in, he asked again: "How many are you and where's Voldemort holed up?"

"Seventy-seven. Voldemort's declared himself minister and is occupying the minister's office currently. M-Most of us are spread throughout the ministry, but there are two guards currently searching each department of the Hall of Mysteries."

Harry nodded thoughtfully. _The superstitious creep was still hung up on the power of magical numbers like seven._

Begrudgingly he had to admit that so far things had gone his darkness' way, though that was about to change.

"Are all the aurors and unspeakables dead?" he asked next, noting the way the man's eyes glazed over worriedly at that.

"A..Alot of them are, the rest either escaped during the takeover or were captured and are being incarcerated in holding cells that we liberated our supporters from beforehand. S-Some are….." he paused uncertainly, his eyes shifting toward the door that Dumbledore was guarding as if he was considering the vain possibility of escape.

"You'll never make it." Black cautioned, cocking the hammer of his colt meaningfully, casually holding it poised over his vulnerable chest.

"You were saying?" Black prompted.

"Some of the more d-difficult ones were in the process of being passed through the veil."

Hermione whimpered at that and Remus' face paled dramatically. Voldemort was purging any and all opposition.

Black digested the information and asked cautiously. "You twerps still carry spare wands and emergency port keys?"

"Yes, but,.. the port keys won't work inside the ministry cause The d-dark lord put up wards tp prevent any unauthorized access to the ministry."

"Has he now? And just what is the activation code word for said port keys?"

" _Blood supremacy_, but didn't you hear me? You can't port key in or out with the wards in place, you'd be splinched at best maybe even.. oh?" Flint finally caught on once understanding the feral gleam of appreciation in Black's eyes.

"No you can't, I'll stop .. unghh!" Fliant foolishly tried to go for the spare wand he had in an ankle holster, but was relieved of his worry by the butt of Black's revolver slamming into his temple.

Black re-holstered his revolver and chuckled dryly. "Well that takes care of our immediate concerns, but now to test a theory… Remus, would you care to do the honors?"

Remus shot his a puzzled expression that cleared up with a pointed look from Black.

"Don't you dare?" Hermione gasped in sudden realization of what he intended, but Remus already had activated the unconscious Death Eater's escape port key.

"Blood Supremacy!"

"**Crack…Splat!"**

The Death Eater literally exploded in a cloud of gore that splattered Remus and Hermione.

"Ewu!" Hermione gagged pulling a blood soaked strand of hair away from her face.

"Haw-Haw-Haw!" Black guffawed at the scene as Remus was hurriedly casting _cleaning charms_ over his gore covered self and Hermione was coughing and gagging in revulsion, too shocked to even think to do the same.

"Mister Potter!" Dumbledore drawled in outrage, beginning to go into full lecture mode on mercy and fairness ect…

"It's Black!" the marshal spat back silencing the man before he could effectively begin his rant.

"That's one less in the opposition. One less for you to stun and incarcerate, then either let go after some despicable bribe or have escape due to the same or the ineptness of your auror guard. One less to murder and rape only to have us either catch and start the process all over again, or catch a killing curse in the back from, relieving us of the burden imposed by war. If you can't stomach it than piss off and let those that can-do! Better yet.. why don't you make a port key and rid us of your foolishness?"

That said and Dumbledore pale and significantly cowed, he cast an offhand wandless _cleaning spell_ over Hermione, who sighed in relief.

"You up for this Hermione or would you like to stay and help Dumbledore continue to guard the door from his own unwise future intervention?"

Her eyes shifted uncertainly from the headmaster's pleading visage to the blood stained floor at her feet.

It was harsh and grisly what had been done, but for all of that she could see the necessity. They had been losing and had effectively_ lost_ the war by being fair and merciful. It was more than time, if not too late already, to try a different more harsh tact.

"I'm with you, Harry. I always have been and I always will be." she declared with dread certainty, meeting his steely gaze and holding it.

Black nodded, not bothering to correct her on his naming preferrance. His eyes shifted toward Remus who was currently adopting a Death Eater's spare wand, seeing the logic and necessity of the tactic.

"I'm with you, pup. It's high time we treated this war as a war."

Black nodded again before shifting his eyes warily toward the headmasters' pleading visage.

"Isn't there some other way…?" Dumbledore beseeched.

"No"

"Stay here and wrap the cowardice you call morality around yourself and leave the fighting to those with the stomach for it." That said and Dumbledore reluctantly nodding in resignation, Black added a warning: "You get in the way or try to interfere in anyway and I'll put a bullet in your head without the slightest pause. Your job is to now guard my means of returning home. If you find yourself getting lonely in the meantime; conjure a mirror so you can talk to the person you admire the most."

Remus snorted a laugh at that behind while Dumbledore moustache drooped to an all-time low.

Black rechecked the draw clearance of his colts while Hermione and Remus broke the spare wands littering the chamber and donned a spare pair of invisibility cloaks whose former owners would no longer be needing the use of. They left their hoods down awaiting further instructions though each was pretty sure they knew what Black had in mind.

"Alright sir and mam, you know the magic words so let's send these idiots back from the land of Oz to Kansas, shall we?" The two nodded with feral grins of anticipation as they pulled their hoods up and completely disappeared.

Voldemort's necessary paranoia was about to be exposed as the tactical disadvantage it was.


	2. Chapter 2: A hellova show

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

**West of Here**

**Chapter two: A hellova show.**

"You okay?" he asked worriedly, tipping back his hat up to take a better look at the flame cutter that had grazed her ribs, tearing a through the limited protection of her unspeakable's uniform.

"Of course I am." She replied with more reassurance than she felt as the room hadn't stopped spinning until she sat back down. "How does it look?" she asked worriedly, holding back a hiss of pain when he pulled her tattered uniform to the side to get a better look at her wound.

He smirked at her attempt to look strong. _Same old Hermione. _

"It looks like it hurts like hell." he answered her question grimacing at the wound.

"No, it's fine." she said trying to stand. "Let's get started on the next chamber."

"Remus is already scouting a head to the room at the end of the hall, you know, the one with the brains floating around in those tubes." he informed, smirking at the way she shuddered in revulsion at the memory from fifth year. Though she was an Unspeakable there were certain areas of research that even she preferred to shun- the brain room was one such.

Her resolve to push on faltered after that and he easily shoved her back down into her chair, rolling his eyes at the groan of pain she tried to stifle as her body protested the change in direction.

"Will the balm you've got fix this?" she gasped, paling from the exertion.

"It's not a balm and yeah, it will, but.."

"Well then use it already for heaven's sake." she demanded irately, cutting him off before he could finish his explanation.

"You're sure?" he balked.

"Do it." she ordered, her patience diminishing with her pain tolerance.

"Alright then." Harry ripped her top aside, exposing half her chest.

"Hey, what're you playing at?" she tried to pull her top back to cover her modesty, but his hand impatiently slapped hers aside. "I have to get at it, besides I've always been curious. What say we kill two birds with one stone?"

"What're you on about?" Hermione asked uncertainly, trying to fight the urge to cover her exposed breasts, but was unwilling to play the damsel in distress and lose some measure of respect in his eyes.

"I'll fix your wound whilst you inadvertently satisfy a teenage boy's once fantasy."

Hermione's questioning face took on an indignant scowl "I'm engaged to your best friend you git."

"You're engaged to my horse?!" he asked in stunned disbelief.

Hermione grimaced in disgust at the visual. "You sad, sick, sorry little man. I'm talking about Ron, obviously."

"Ron's a horse?" he snickered at that and the look of waning patience she afforded him. "Isn't that like, I dunno, _illegal _in this day and age?" he guffawed at his own off colored remark, enjoying another look of disgust at his expense.

"I suppose it isn't back in yours." she returned pointedly with a smug expression on her face.

"Just fix it already would you- hey OWE!" Hermione shrieked as he roughly worked his own concoction into her wound. Obviously he wasn't above returning like for like and then some at the cost of her previous insinuation.

"Urg.. oh.. that stings something fierce!" Hermione hissed and whined as the ointment did it's work, cleaning starting to knit the skin back together without a trace of scarring.

"Would you like me to kiss it and make it all better?" he asked hopefully in anticipation, smacking his lips for effect. "Saliva, if administered properly, has pain relieving effects." He went on convincingly with a serious expression.

"It does not." Hermione scoffed, pushing back from him and dramatically pulling her top close to cover her modesty. "How thick do your think I am?"

"I could ask you the same?"

She puzzled at that briefly before her eyes went wide and she gasped, taking a swipe at him. "You sick pervert!"

He waxed rhapsodically as if emotionally wounded. "One day a hero in the public eye, the next vilified as a contemptible lecher. Will I ever be wholly understood, let alone appreciated, for the complicated Renaissance man that I truly am?"

Hermione began giggling at that, suddenly pulling up sober in realization that the excruciating pain of moments ago was completely gone.

"My side, it.. it's completely healed!"

"You're welcome."

"You too."

For what? he asked not catching on immediately.

"For my having satisfied a school boy fantasy." she returned haughtily.

He snorted at that, offering. "Would you like me to return the favor?"

Hermione pulled a withering expression, deciding too quickly. "Tempting, but no."

"Spoil sport."

"Actually, Ron says I'm a very _good _sport." she contradicted loftily.

"Ron's used to making do with little to nothing, er um.._ financially speaking_ , of course." He reiterated immediately at the look of outrage and the epitaphs about to be hurled in his direction.

"Bastard." she hissed, too insulted not offer at least that much in return.

"You have no idea." He returned, but she could see by the hollow look of regret in his eyes that he was no longer bantering with her but quite serious.

Her heart ached for what his life must have been like initially and what it had obviously cost him on so many levels.

She would ask him more later, if they survived that is.

The sound of muffled voices growing louder and the grating of a steel door as it began to grind open over the flag stone alerted them to a new arrival.

She was about to offer to disillusion him before herself, but was surprised to find that he had already vanished from sight. She hastily followed suit applying the charm to herself and stepping back to the side of the opening doors.

"Lemmego you bastards!" a struggling female spat angrily as a pair of unmasked Death Eaters carried her struggling form toward the ominously waiting doom of the veil at the other end of the chamber.

"This one's got spirit Walden, what say we break her before we send her through?"

His partner nodded, adding… "I like the feisty ones especially when they finally give up and starting pleading for their virtue and or lives as if we'd not help ourselves to either or both regardless."

"Argh!" His chuckling partner screamed in pain as the struggling woman's fingernails racked the side of his face, leaving welts and a trail of blood bubbling up through the broken skin.

He backhanded the woman whose head twisted over her shoulder from the blow which is when Hermione inadvertently gasped in recognition: _Katie Bell! _

Her gasp alerted the other who twisted back toward the door, bringing his wand to bear before Hermione could do likewise.

Despite being disillusioned she knew her chances were poor of not being hit as she was only a few feet away and the wand was trained directly toward her, a green light of an AK glowing at the tip.

Crack!

"Urg!" the one called Walden grunted in pain as his wand suddenly flew from his broken hand and shattered against one of the stone benches lining the rows of the amphitheater shaped room.

Katie twisted away from the other who lost his balance, between trying to still maintain his grip on the thrashing girl and turn his wand on the unseen threat assailing his partner.

Omphh! Katie hit the cold flags with a grunt of pain.

"Ahh…." her captor's head hit the edge of a bench as he fell, knocking the man out cold, his body falling to the flags with a last sigh and stilling. By the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth it was doubtful he'd be getting back up anytime soon, unassisted.

Marshal Black shimmered into being looming over Walden Macnair who was gingerly probing his already swollen hand.

"I..I think it's broke?" he whimpered piteously, the bully showing his true colors.

"Hear, let me see it?" Jamie offered compassionately.

"Aghhhh!" Macnair screamed as Jamie squeezed the man's hand in his own, crushing the fingers together, heralding a series of _snaps _as the bones broke even further- one after another.

"Yep,.. it's broken alright." he confirmed with a satisfied grin of distinct pleasure as the man paled dramatically in pain, crumpling to the floor, cradling his ruined hand.

Jamie Black bent down to give the whimpering bully a better look at his face though his vision was clouded by a haze of pain. No recognition flickered in his teary eyes.

"Don't remember me, huh? You should, Macnair, as we fought in this very chamber some ten years back. It didn't go much better for you that night either. The only difference is that this time you're not going to prison only to buy your way out, nor are you going to be sprung by a bunch of your Death Eater buddies and the Dark Dick they all kowtow to."

"W-What're you going to d-do?" Macnair stammered his eyes shifting about searching for avenues of escape.

"Me…?" Black pulled, cocked and pointed the barrel of his gun between Macnair's eyes so fast that the man cringed back in terror, his eyes crossing as they fixated on his imminent demise.

"I'm gonna watch you apologize to the lady and if I'm anything but wholly convinced of your sincerity, I'm gonna make you beg for another chance to try again. After that I'm gonna give you your pick of possible _releases_."

He stressed that last causing Hermione to gasp behind him in dread anticipation of what was to come.

Macnair's face took on a disgusted smug set as he growled out defiantly. "I'm not lowering myself to beg from some half- blood whore. She can go..mmmphhh!"

Jamie's fist hit him so hard that his teeth broke inward and his fist disappeared into the blustering fools ruined mouth.

"Ug-ahhh- gaaa…!" Macnair struggled to speak.

"Interesting sensation isn't it; me holding your tongue and you struggling to breath without swallowing your teeth and, or blood into your wildly pumping lungs? Here let me clear out your gab so you can apologize properly now."

A horrific tearing sound filled the chamber and echoes off the cool stone walls as Black yanked back and tore the man's tongue right out by the roots.

Macnair writhed and gagged up bloody frothy as he choked on his blood eventually stilling after a last shudder of horrific resignation.

"Apology accepted." Black intoned hollowly, toeing the man's body aside as if it were a piece of offal staining a busy side walk.

Still holding the man's bleeding tongue in his fist Jamie walked over to the other, mindful of the way that Katie's eyes were glued to the bloody appendage as she shifted bodily away to avoid any possible contact with it as if it would come alive at any minute and renew its assault on her person in one form or another.

Harry smacked the fallen Death Eater a few times until the man groggily started coming to.

"W-Walden..?" he gasped, struggling to get a clear look at the man looming over him, hoping it was his comrade.

"He's right here." Black answered, proffering the darkening tongue forward. "At least the part of him that substituted for courage and common sense."

"Gaaa..!" The man pulled back horrified.

Given a moment, the man found enough semblance of courage to ask tremulously. "Who're you?"

Black smirked. "I'm called Black. Marshal Jamie Black. Round these parts I was once known as: Harry Potter."

"Potter?!" The man gasped, paling dramatically in recognition of both the name and now the man looming over him threateningly.

Katie too had gasped at that, only hers sounded more pleased and hopeful in nature.

"You've heard of me, how nice." he smiled with something far less than congeniality in the offing.

"I have a few questions, think…" at this he waved the hardening tongue in front of the man's face for effect, reiterating. "Think.. carefully before you answer." He warned and by the look of the way the man was shuddering violently- the message was well received.

Jamie proceeded to ask several question regarding the opposition. Once satisfied that the man had told him everything he wanted to know, including some things he didn't, Jamie proceeded to offer him a choice.

"Your magic or your life?"

"Huh?" the man gapped stupidly in misunderstanding.

"Simple; you can either forfeit your magic or you can take a walk, crawl or a friendly toss through that _veil_ over yonder. You can take your chances as a muggle or you can take the coward's way out. Either way; your usefulness, or uselessness, as the case may be, is at an end."

"What, but,.. but you can't…? I have the right to a trial.." the man began to plead in terror only to have Jamie interrupt.

Jamie pulled back the lapel of his coat to display a very telling badge in the wizarding world, one that hadn't been seen for many years but still was recognizable by the vast majority through storied legends and historical accounts. Obviously the man recognized the symbol of office as his mouth hung open in both fear and astonishment and the blood drained from his face.

"The coward's way it is." Black pronounced the man's final sentence with cool certainty. That decided, he heaved up the blubbering man and tossed him bodily into the waiting veil that fluttered hungrily for several moments before stilling.

The man's scream of horror abruptly cutt off the instant he made contact with the unseen threshold between worlds.

"Harry you just can't play judge, jury and executioner. That man had rights." Hermione interjected at seeing the cool resolve with which he'd dispatched an unarmed criminal, guilty or no.. he still had the right to due process in her eyes.

"Sure I can." Black reassured without the slightest hesitation. "You folks all wanted me back here to deal with this shite, well congratulations- here I am!" he proclaimed winningly, dusty his hands off from the offence of having to lay hands on said criminal.

"But…?" Hermione was about to argue when Jamie pulled back his lapel to display for her consideration the same badge he'd just shown to the subject in question.

Hermione gapped wide eyed at the golden badge. She'd only ever read about such instances when people of extraordinary ability were empowered by such, but was unaware of any current wizarding bodies who could grant such vast authority to a single individual.

"How can…?" she hesitated trying to puzzle through such an impossible circumstance. "The council hasn't existed for nearly a hundred years…. Of course!" she smacked her own forehead in revelation. No one could grant such authority since the Wizard's Guard had disbanded with the last of its appointee's death some hundred years ago, but Harry was from a hundred and ten years ago, give or take. He could have been appointed and if so.. the world was about to change. Guardians were lifetime appointees to serve the public in establishing and maintaining both peace and justice by _any_ means necessary- the world over.

And no one- NO ONE, but the Guard had the legal authority to either censure or abolish a guardian's designated posting and,or authority.

He was a law onto himself in this day and age as no other Guardian's but himself existed. He had carte blanche to meet out justice in any way he saw fit.

If it were anyone but Harry Potter, she would be absolutely terrified over such an occurrence as they could all very well be facing not one, but two potential tyrannical dictatorships. One was an illegal terrorist, a monster by all accounts. The other was once a kind and noble soul, but what exactly was Jamie Black?

Had they just traded one future of death and enslavement for another, perhaps even darker one?

Silently understanding, sympathizing even, with the track of his once friend's thoughts and the dilemma she was considering, Jamie attempted to reassure her.

He closed the lapel of his jacket, hiding his badge from scrutiny as he explained. "It's to protect me as well as everyone else, Hermione. I'm only here to serve and protect. Granted my methods are harsh, but no less effective,… and permanent. I'm here to do a dirty, horrific job. To do so requires a very unforgiving attitude, one of extreme prejudice. That said; my posting also protects my interest in that I will not trade my personal freedom and livelihood for a public unwilling to rise up and take back what's rightfully theirs. In laymen's terms: I'm not going to be jailed or put to death as a reward for doing a dirty, filthy job that everyone else is too cowardly to do for themselves."

She mulled over his words and wanted to accept them at face value, but she just couldn't. "And what's to protect us from you once said _dirty, filthy _job is over?"

It was a valid point, but for all of that his face fell in hurt disappointment. Eventually he sighed and abruptly approached her, grabbing up her hand before she could shirk back out of reach. He removed his hat and held it at his waist, taking her other hand and pressing it firmly beneath his own, over his heart.

Intense green eyes held tremulous brown for the longest moment before he spoke. "You and Ron were my best friends in the whole world. You were my world. I would never do anything to hurt either of you and what you're suggesting would do just that. I'm not the same Harry you once knew. I'm a grown man now and I've shouldered burdens and faced horrors beyond your wildest imaginings. Those things have shaped and tempered me into the man that I now am, but for all of that, I do know what's right and what's wrong, Hermione. I may be a harsh and hard man, but I'm not cruel and inhuman."

Tears began to leak from the corners of Hermione's eyes. Tears for what was and what could have been and even a bit for what yet may be.

Those tears became a torrent when he vowed. "On my magic and on my life I shall forgo Guardianship upon the demise of Voldemort and his Death Eaters if that is what is asked from me."

A flash of silver enveloped both him and Hermione, by proxy, as magic accepted his vow.

Hermione melted, crying guiltily as she fell into his arms murmuring apology after apology.

Katie Bell, all but forgotten, watched the scene unfold with varied emotions ranging from fear to joy, Never,.. never in her wildest dream would she have ever thought to have laid eyes upon the person of Harry Potter again.

Some thought him a coward that had run away in shame to hide from the Dark Lord_- bollocks that!_ She and anyone who knew Harry or had ever ever met him knew better. Harry Potter was courage at its purest most awe inspiring form.

Many thought him dead and she, herself, were among those that had thought this as nothing else could or would keep Harry away from coming to their aid when he was so sorely needed.

Dozens of other outlandish theories had been spun regarding the disappearance of the light's most fervent hope.

And now… He was right here in front of her and she hadn't a clue how or why, but she did know one thing: her heart still fluttered whenever he was near. No one had ever made her feel safer than, Harry. The cute boy he once was had grown into a tall, lean, ruggedly handsome man. The once so expressive eyes had changed in that they now gave little away, but they were far more intense than they had been, almost frighteningly so.

She couldn't fathom for the life of her why he looked and talked with a distinct western accent like one of those cowboys in the movies, but that only added to the allure of his persona.

She startled from her current train of thoughts, finding herself being closely scrutinized by the object of her intense interest.

Brown eyes went wide at the sudden realization of the close proximity of intense emerald green that seemed to be looking into her very soul. He was leaning down over her, his eyes swept up and down her trembling form searching for any hint of injury other that a bruised ego.

"You okay, Katie?" he asked in a gentle tone laced with concern.

She felt herself nodding dumbly until she finally managed to blurt out.. "Fine,.. I'm fine, just a bruised backside.

"Want me to take a look?" he asked in a hopeful tone, catching her off guard.

She colored at that, not something easily achieved with her already dark complexion. The crinkle of amusement at the corner of his eyes put her at ease and she soon found herself chuckling along with him, easing the tension of previous.

He proffered her a hand and powerful arms had her on her feet in a trice.

"I don't have a wand?" she hesitated before they reached the outer door to the chamber, informing them that she had no means to defend herself.

Black shifted his eyes to Hermione, how she knew she couldn't guess, but he was right in his assumption as she rolled her eyes and drew a backup wand from a sheath on her right calf and presented it handle first to Katie whose hand closed gratefully around the oaken shaft.

Katie gave the wand an experimental swish and a modicum of bright green sparks flew from the tip. It wasn't a perfect match' but it would work fairly well for her for most spells.

Hermione nodded in satisfaction as Katie shot her a look of appreciation for the loan.

Luckily, Remus stole into the room shortly after such that they didn't have to go in search of him.

"The lab's secured, well,.. sort of anyway." He volunteered with a shudder of revulsion over what he'd witnessed.

In answer to their questioning looks, he added. "There's these brain like creatures and well, they got out er, _somehow_ and are currently er_.. _they're_ feeding_ on the Death Eaters trapped in there." He shrugged noncommittally on just _how_ the Death Eaters got trapped in there and how they brain creatures managed to get set free, eliciting a chuckle from Black and shudders from the women in apprehension.

That only left the Hall of Prophecies unaccounted for.

In answer to the meaningful look Black shot him, nodding toward the door to the right, Remus answered. "There's a few Death Eaters in there cataloging the prophecies in there. They'll be at it all day at the rate they're going." He ventured unconcernedly.

Black quirked an eyebrow in consideration before deciding he'd rather be sure that the Death Eaters didn't get curious and catch them unawares from behind.

He pulled, what could only be described as the biggest knife Katie had ever seen, from a sheath at his waist and poked the tip of his thumb, drawing a rivulet of blood. He proceeded to draw an ideogram in blood, that even Hermione's puzzled expression told the others that she didn't recognize, on the door, chanting as he did so. When he was finished the door glowed red for an instant than faded back to normal.

"A blood seal?" Hermione assumed, her voice tinged with something akin to reverence.

"That ought a hold 'em for a while." Black remarked in satisfaction before guiding the others back to the Hall of Time.

They arrived back to find a weary Dumbledore securing two unconscious Death Eaters and the place an absolute shambles; complete with the time turner blasted to shreds.

Black growled low in his throat as Katie ran to the Headmaster, overjoyed to see what she assumed would be their salvation.

"Ah Miss Bell, how nice to see that you are at least safe in all of this unfortunate business." he ventured congenially, intentionally keeping her between himself and what he knew would be a very disappointed: Marshal Black.

Jamie toed the sad remains of the time turner's instrumentation panel, growling in frustration over what he could see was a total loss. There would be no getting back to his time from this location, but at least there was another and he pointedly mentioned it to halt the irritating platitudes that Dumbledore was readying to use for excuses.

"It was most unfortunate that I was unable to subdue my assailants before they caused such irreparable harm to your only means of returning home. I am indeed profoundly sorry for your hardship, my boy." -Forgetting himself, in his unwanted familiarity, at that last.

"I aint your boy and _I'm sure_ it was just a simple accident." Jamie scathed unconvinced by the headmaster's sincerity. "As for my _only_ means- sorry , but I hedged my bets before we returned here. Jamie Pulled back the lapel of his slicker, revealing the golden _guardianship_ badge over his left heart. Dumbledore's eyes goggled momentarily before his moustache drooped in understanding.

"Fortunately the Guardian's Keep has another such devise." he reminded the headmaster.

"Yes, fortunate." Dumbledore agreed with something less than enthusiasm in his voice.

Now even Hermione, as well as Remus, were looking at Dumbledore with dubious intent.

"I'm confused." Katie ventured.

"Don't fight it." Hermione offered with an indifferent shrug that they all chuckled at.

"What you are is in the middle of something that you and the others need to get out of and fast, if you have any hope to survive to 'fight another day'." Black quoted meaningfully.

"Indeed, we are too few to affect any meaningful harm upon our enemies." Dumbledore added.

"We could harry their flanks using guerrilla tactics?" Remus suggested.

"Ultimately we'd be cut down one by one and then Voldemort would hold England unopposed." Black disagreed realistically. "Youfour need to get outta here and now, while the getting's good."

_You four_…? Hermione cottoned on quickly to his factoring himself out of the equation. "You're coming with us." she hadn't asked, but demanded in a voice that would brook no argument.

Jamie shook his head. "Not if you're to get away, I'm not. You need a diversion to get beyond the apparition wards and I'm it." At this he turned toward Dumbledore and asked. "What's the Order's primary point of retreat?"

"Grimauld Place, but that's undoubtedly compromised by now. Hogwart's is our second option which is where our remaining operatives would have retreated to in that instance. It's become a haven for those fleeing persecution and death. "

Black nodded in understanding before instructing them: "I'll buy you the time and distraction you need to breach the Ministry entrance. Once you safely away I'll be hot on your trail."

"No,..You're coming with us." Hermione demanded stepping up face to face with her once best friend.

Jamie pushed up the brim of his Stetson. Piercing green eyes held pleading brown ones for a long moment before he grasped her shoulders gently, supportively.

"The three of you need to get Katie and yourselves outta here and that's not gonna happen with the Ministry lobby crawling with Death Eaters and lord knows what else. **I will** buy you the time you need to get away and **I will** follow after." he reassured her, placing a soft kiss on her forehead and adding, "Besides I want to see the look on Ron's face when you tell him how I fixed your owie."

Hermione gasped at that and swatted his arm playfully as she pulled away feigning outrage.

"Now I'm confused." Remus ventured.

"Don't fight it." Katie suggested with a chuckle to which they all laughed, relieving the tension in the room.

"Remus take point, Dumbledore and Hermione cover the rear. Keep moving no matter what. Don't stop for anyone or anything. I don't care if Molly Weasley is being tortured in the middle of the lobby- you don't stop until you're safely back to Hogwarts!" he commanded, his eyes catching and holding each until they nodded in compliance.

"But what are you gonna do?" Hermione nearly whined in worry for him.

"I'm _gonna_ get reacquainted with a few _old friends_" he offered with something bordering on absolute mayhem radiating from his very pores."

Stealthily they made their way back to the entrance to the Hall of Mysteries, encountering no opposition as everyone in the ministry was currently under the illusion that they held complete and unchallenged control of the wizarding government.

They were about to learn just how dangerous false illusions of complacency were.

Jamie cracked open one of the French doors that lead to the ministry lobby . Quickly he scanned the lobby before closing the door and switching to the other side to take a peek in the other direction.

The place looked like the Black Sea; there were so many Death Eater cloaks milling about.

He closed the door and placed his back against the French doors as he checked his colts.

A well versed eye examined each gun, spinning the cylinders down his arm as he made sure that each was completely loaded and ready. His hands twirled the colts forward, then abruptly reversing direction as he twirled them right back into their holsters without the slightest catch.

He pulled a pair of navy colts from beneath each arm, held in place by shoulder holsters. He checked each weapon as he did the first pair, only once satisfied; he twirled the guns horizontally across his body guiding them home with a gently rasp of leather announcing their return.

Hermione gasped at the display, whilst even Dumbledore and Remus goggled in appreciation at the untold amount of practice and diligence that must've been involved to reach such intimate familiarity with one's chosen weapons.

There was little doubt in anyone's minds that they were in the presence of a master. What sort of master was another matter entirely?

"There's a support pillar at the right of the receptionist desk." He detailed pointedly. "Each of you hit it with the strongest blasting hex you can muster. I want you to bring down the balcony on that side as that's where the heaviest concentration of Death Eaters are congregating at the moment." He left it unsaid what was currently holding their interest. They were torturing a prisoner who was already dying by the look of things.

Each nodded save Dumbledore who hesitated.

Black's vivid green eyes caught and held pale blue. "If you have another one of your timely and unfortunate accidental misses, you can be sure that I won't miss in return. Got it?" he warned.

To which the aged Headmaster sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement.

War was upon them and the time of stunning spells and rehabilitation was long since passed, even Dumbledore could finally acknowledge that.

"Don't look back. Keep your eyes fixed on the exit doors. If anything or anyone gets in your line of sight-blast it out of the way with extreme prejudice." At this he was heartened to see even Dumbledore nod his agreement.

"What about you?" Katie asked worriedly.

Black smiled a dark, cold smile that promised a world of hurt for the opposition. "I'm going to be otherwise preoccupied. Death's a coming and it's gonna be a helluva show!" he promised intently.

Jamie twirled his colts into his hands and held them up to each side of his face as he concentrated.

Thinking he was hesitant, Katie ventured. "You don't have to do this? There may be some other way to…"

A wry smile etched his mouth as he reassured her. "I'm not scared Katie, I'm envisioning the battle in my mind."

"Don't you get yourself killed, pup." Remus warned.

"No way in hell." he returned without pause.

"On my mark… Three ….Two… One… NOW!"

Black turned and kicked the French doors open.

"REDUCTO!" two pairs of shouted blasting hexes sounded from either side of his person as the left most support pillar of the balcony overhead vaporized in a cloud of marble shards that tore into the Death eaters nearby as tons of concrete rained down , crushing the Death Eaters caught below the collapsing balcony. A dust cloud rose up from the destruction and Black used the cover to full effect.

BLAM-BLAM-BLAM-BLAM….

Jamie's colts cut down the distracted opposition where they stood. Barely a scream left surprised lips as the slugs tore through heart and brain in a torrent of destruction.

Remus had made good use of the destruction to guide the others to the Lobby entrance, having only had to blast a single surprised Death Eater out of his path. Whoever it was; his days of cringing before Voldemort were over as he no longer possessed a head to beg with.

He ushered his companions through the door, breaking his word for a scant second to turn his eyes back toward the way they'd come. Jamie was twisting and twirling about as hexes and curses flew past like a maelstrom, all the while his guns emptied death into the Death Eater ranks without the slightest pause.

One such green tinged curse ripped his black Stetson from his head, himself turning toward the responsible part and firing a shot from each pistol that ripped the Death Eater from his feet, bowling him backward into his fellows that were crowding the railing of the other balcony that was still intact.

With a last wan grimace of worry, Remus, followed in the wake of the others. As much as he wanted to he knew another wand would do no good and would probably only serve as a distraction, not that his once pseudo nephew had any chance at all. He was probably dead already in the short space of time it took Remus to turn away and let the door fall close behind him.

_He couldn't have been more wrong._

"Enough!" a cold dark voice, (used to giving commands and being immediately obeyed), bellowed from above. All wands ceased fire immediately at their feared master's command. The object of their vehemence wiped a sleeve across his sweating brow in grateful reprieve, his general form becoming clearer with each passing moment as the concrete dust settled or was banished by a multitude of cleaning charms.

He retrieved his hat, examining it with a scowl as his finger poked through the now hole that was torn through the right side.

"Which one of you turds ruined my hat?" he demanded, completely oblivious to the hush that had fallen over the chaos that had reined moments only ago.

"No one, huh?" he scanned the railing above and over the few remaining Death Eaters that were struggling to remain on their feet around him. No one appeared willing, let alone able, to own up to his personal loss.

"Who are you?" a cold sneering voice laced with contempt called down from above.

"My current name wouldn't do you any good, Tom." Black responded casually in the familiar, knowing that both would agitate his once and current nemesis. "Better off asking me who I was." He suggested.

He tossed his hat aside giving it up for a lost cause as the dark magic that had ruined it would prevent any attempts at repair. That decided, he waved his hand over a pebble whilst being careful to keep one hand in contact with the handle of his colt at all times. The pebble transformed into a dark grey Stetson.

Disappointed that it wasn't black, he decided that beggars can't be choosers and donned the newly transformed hat pulling down on the brow both in front and back to shape it as he liked. Satisfied, he waited patiently for the inevitable.

"Who were you, then?" Voldemort snapped back impatiently, trying himself to cover the surprise at how effortlessly the man seemingly used wandless magic.

"The wronged son of parents and god parents murdered by your own blood stained hands, Tom Riddle Jr."

"I have killed many parents and their mongrel offspring." Voldemort sneered, eliciting chuckles from his emboldened followers, made so by their master's presence among them. "What makes you any more noteworthy that any of the rest -my soon to be extinct acquaintance?"

"Probably because we've gone down this garden path before, Tom. You failed to off me in the past and your odds aint looking too good just now either."

Many of the Death Eaters gasped in outrage over someone daring to affront their master, but Voldemort waved them to silence.

"Such insolence and from one so inconsequential that I cannot even recall having ever met him before?" He sneered condescendingly whilst at the same time letting his mental probes loose to assault the mind and memory of his challenger.

He immediately pulled his probes back with a startle of surprise. It was as if there was no one standing there. If he couldn't see him with his own eyes and hear him with his own ears; he would have thought him no more than a fever induced hallucination at best. The mans' mind was a clean slate, a great black endless vacancy that had threatened to pull him in and set him falling through blackness as if down a bottomless pit.

"Didn't like what you found, eh?" Black assumed, instantly recognizing the Dark lord's failed attempt to infiltrate his mind.

"I know not of what you speak?" The dark lord feigned ignorance so as not to lose face amongst his followers.

"Sure you don't." Black returned skeptically. Deciding that his charges had more than enough time to make their escape, it was time to end the charade and get down to brass tacks.

"Just so we're clear on a couple of things, Tom. I aint here to collect for some charity and I aint here to bow and scrape before your knobby half- blood knees. I'm here to put a bullet in your useless head; one would be good, three would be better. That done, the rest of you malcontents can surrender yourselves for summary execution on a charge of treason among, what I'm sure, are many other horrific crimes. Either that, or you could just kill youselves, like the cowards you are saving the rest of us the trouble. By the look of you I'm guessing you're far too cowardly and craven to accept the inevitable and off your useless selves."

Growled epitaphs and hurled insults rained down at that, Voldmeort let his minions vent their ire unhindered, knowing the fools demise was fast approaching and deciding to be generous a bit longer as he was more amusing than most.

"Alright then, the hard way it is." Black decided. He casually pulled each colt and reloaded them with a practiced ease as he readied to show his hand and lay all his cards on the table.

He re-holstered his colts and prepared to make the coming slaughter official.

"By the power vested in me by the Guardian Council…" gasps of denial mixed with apprehensive swearing followed this announcement. Black continued to pull back his lapels over his colts whilst simultaneously displaying his golden badge as he announced. "I, Harry Potter," at that even Voldemort looked shocked to his core as Black continued to lay down the law. ".. deem you all under arrest for subversion and terrorism . You will surrender immediately or face summary execution, by mine own hand, which will it be?" at that final word his hands drifted to his gun handles.

The light of a green killing curse streaked past his left shoulder as the firs answer he'd received to his inquiry.

"Just as good." Black pronounced and drew his guns so fast they were as a blur. The twin rapports of his colts shocked the Death Eaters, freezing them just long enough to watch their leader pitch back head over heels as the two slugs ripped through each side of his chest, spraying blood across the wall behind that the dark lord hit and slumped against before sliding unceremoniously to the floor, leaving a bright trail following his path down.

Black knew the shots had hit as intended- he didn't miss unless it was on purpose, like now. He knew Voldemort would most likely survive his wounds if these fools knew enough to get him to a healer before he succumbed. Either way, he'd bought himself the time he would need to affect his permanent demise as Voldemort would be in no fit shape to continue his terrorist activities for quite some time as he struggled to recover.

By then, Black would be more than happy to put that one or three bullets in his head as promised.

Several Death Eaters lunged forward to go to their master's aid, whilst the rest recovered enough to level their wands on the _figures_ below.

There was no longer a single Jamie Black, but a dozen such, each dodged and twisted away as a a multitude curses _seemingly_ flew by harmlessly while in turn he fired not just bullets from his pistols, but a plethora of blasting curses and the like, decimating Death Eaters numbers until they grabbed up their fallen leader and retreated, fleeing their hard won Ministry coup as quickly as they had originally gained it.

Each Jamie Black merged into the likeness closest until only one remained. That one smiled wickedly and disappeared.

* * *

Jamie Black reemerged at the gates of his once school. Torn and bloodied, he managed to remain upright on sheer will alone as he slammed the door knocker home once-twice-thrice.

CRACK-CRACK-CRACK! The school's door knockers slammed against the enchanted wood reverberating throughout the entire school announcing a visitor. He grimaced in pain as each hard pound of the knockers sent a wave of agony crashing through his torn and battered body. His sidewinder coat had absorbed a great deal of spell damage, but his body had been stuck with paying the total bill. He'd managed to dodge the harsher, more lethal curses, but as a result he'd had to sacrifice his body to the damage caused by the sheer magnitude of lesser curses cast his way. Jamie Black was good at what he did, he knew that, but nobody was good enough to beat those odds and come out unscathed.

He'd paid the price, glad it hadn't been higher than it was, though right just now it seemed pretty high . Each movement was a new agony. His bones seemed to shift in the opposite direction he wanted to go telling him that he'd undoubtedly broken several ribs and his thoracic support was compromised as the rib muscles were slowing pulling away from the bone.

Blood dribbled down from his right hand which lay limp at his side, the shoulder lower on that side than the left- signifying a dislocation from some _bludgeoning hex_ he hadn't managed to dodge entirely.

His jaw ached up into his left ear as if the bone were rubbing on bone- probably broken or at the very least jammed into its joint needing to be pulled back out to free the hinge.

_Christ_, he felt like he'd fallen during a stampede and unfortunately lived to remember it.

He was struggling to lift his hand to give the knocker another futile rap when the door creaked open and a shaky wand pointed into his bruised face, shadowed by his grey Stetson.

"Password?" a no-nonsense voice, that triggered distant memory, asked abruptly.

_Damn Dumbledore would just conveniently overlook mentioning said security measures!_

"Don't have one and don't care professor." He growled out through his pain. "So either use that wand or lose it. I need.. to see.. Pomfrey…right…quickkkk.. ugh!" his strength finally abandoned him as his eyes rolled up and he pitched forward into Professor McGonagal's trembling arms with a final groan before unconsciousness blessedly claimed him .

The Great Hall of Hogwarts serving more as a refugee camp than either a school or even an organized resistance became a hive of activity shortly after Professor McGonagal's call for assistance, more so to a fever pitch when the identity of her charge was learned.

Eyes that hadn't shown without anything even resembling hope now glowed with feverish intent. Torn, bloodied and broken though he was he was that much more a miracle.

Few had dared hope that Dumbledore and Remus would have been successful, but they had and beyond anyone's wildest imaginings. If the rumors were true and the wizarding wireless was for once reporting accurately than dozens of Death Eaters had been killed and Voldemort himself was mortally wounded and believed dead or at the very least-dying!

* * *

Madam Pomfrey clucked her tongue disapprovingly and grumbled as she scanned and rescanned his broken form. Many were the times she tended the wounded of this senseless war, but never had she beheld so much damage to one poor soul before. Whilst none of his wounds were mortal, in and of themselves, the sum total, however, were beyond belief and inherently mortal for that reason alone. By her reckoning he shouldn't have survived half of them due to the blood loss alone. How he managed to make it to the school while still upright was more a miracle that even his return to their present time.

How she'd missed her once favorite patient. Many were the times she'd comforted the rest of the Ministry survivors in the wake of his disappearance- none of them believing for a moment that he had run away and left them to their fate as was the popular opinion.

It was all that Remus and Minerva could currently do to keep them and many others back and out of the way whilst she and Ginny Weasley worked feverishly to try and close a multitude of wounds. They'd already doused him with more blood replenishing potion than was safe, but blood trickled out of him faster than they could put potion back in.

If he lived through the night it would be a miracle and he would live, she would not contemplate otherwise. Once his wounds were closed and his blood pressure stabilized than the agony of _skel gro_ potion would come next. Never had she previously have to have given as much as she knew would be required to repair his many breaks.

_Merlin above how could he have held himself upright for even a second with so many bones broken and shattered! _

Tears streamed down from Ginny Weasley's eyes as she closed wound after wound, she was suffering almost as much as her patient. She'd become a healer after finishing Hogwarts, or at least almost a fully qualified healer as she had yet to take her final exams to become a licensed healer- the war had stalled those plans.

Pomfrey thanked the powers that be she had her as Ginny's assistance had voided many near tragedies and allowed many of their dwindling numbers to 'fight another day'.

Eventually there were no more 'other days' as Voldemort had decimated the light and taken control of the Ministry. Only Hogwarts was left as the last bastion of hope and even it would not stand for much longer. They had all but surrendered to the inevitable when the Wizarding Wireless blared out that the Dark side had suffered a catastrophe and that catastrophe was currently lying on that same cot that Madam Pomfrey had adorned with a plague years ago as reserved for him alone. She was both gladdened and regretful that it was once again filled by her favorite patient. Both reasons, however, gave her and the rest of Wizarding Europe a reason to hope.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter characters.

West of Here

**Chapter Three: Culling the Herd.**

Green eyes peered over the rim of his coffee mug while his nose relished the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. It had only been an hour since he'd made his escape from the infirmary. There'll be hell to pay for sure once Madam Pomfrey rose and found her charge had absconded without her final approval for release. More to the point- he woke up first and snuck out.

Then again, she might appreciate the reprieve brought on by the daily circus within her sanctuary. He'd been unconscious up until a few scant hours ago and woke to find himself naked beneath a sheet, his body covered in gauze and pastes and unguents of all get out.

_Lord above, but modern medicine was no more advanced than the Spanish inquisition._

A quick shower later and a fresh pair of enchanted clothes and he'd be right as rain in a day or two, three at most. That and free of the many scars Pomfrey's tender mercies would have left him with.

He'd learned long ago from another wizened man the art that was true and natural healing and he'd made good use of it in his violent career choice. Why bother with medicinal gauzes and the like when all one needed to do was enchant ones clothes to do the same. No mess-no fuss.

That and your clothes remain hygienic far longer and predominantly cleaner and fresher than the best of cleaning charms could duplicate.

* * *

The sun, rising over the Forbidden Forest cast the tree line in a multitude of color as the sun peeked here and there through the leafy canopy.

He'd found over time the value of simple pleasures- what choice had he in that television and movies weren't even a glint on the horizon in the era he'd made his life in.

You learned to appreciate the intensity of a sharp game of cards, the slow burn on the way down of a decent whiskey and a woman's charms at a barn dance which were few and far between, an attractive girl of age an even rarer commodity in the parts where he'd begun to set down roots.

His was a lonely, but necessary existence, given his chosen career.

There were girls about sure, like Amy's lot, but those girls weren't exactly the marrying type, not unless you wanted to spend the rest of your days defending their rather dubious honor from a multitude of past costumers.

A hint of movement at the tree line caught his attention and though it was probably no more than the shadows retreating from approaching dawn it had set his hackles to rising. There were lots of things that go bump in the dark and he didn't care much for most of them. He'd keep a wary eye out and do a bit of scouting about tonight just to be on the safe side.

_Maybe he'd invite Remus along, give them a chance to catch up proper?_

He still had his seekers reflexes and sharp vision,(now without glasses), but he'd honed them to razor sharpness aided by years of suspicion that was of a necessity if one wanted to live long enough to swap tall tales with the older crowd down at the barber shop.

Speaking of old; he wondered if Moody was still creepin around or if the 'king of rampant paranoia' had finally gotten caught with his pants down.

A door creaked open behind and his free hand ghosted down to the hilt of his colt. Even though he recognized the scent of his newly arrived guest, he'd learned the hard way to take nothing for granted.

_Again, Moody would be proud._

"Mornin, Katie." he announced in his best disarming tone, smirking slightly at the hitch in her gate over her initial surprise that he'd recognized her without even turning around.

"It's your scent.." he explained. "it smells of vanilla and oranges- refreshing." he complimented as she pulled up alongside him, a faint tinge on her darkened cheek.

Katie Bell had always been an intelligent witch, nearly as much so as she was stunningly attractive, but more in an approachable, every day sorta way that most fellas readily clamored to though they weren't exactly sure just why.

"Madam Pomfrey's got the whole castle in an uproar searching for you." Katie half warned, half explained her reason for searching him out.

"And here I was hoping that you were looking for me for more personal reasons? Ah well, a fella can dream I guess?" he lamented, his eyes twinkling as they caught a hint of her previous blush darkening from his intended flirtation.

He'd always had a bit of a secret thing for Katie Bell. What bloke in his right mind within the castle hadn't? He was of a mind that there were some girls that God put her just to brighten the place up- Katie was one of these.

He didn't know what God or the Fates had in mind with throwing Katie into the mix at the Ministry, but he took it as a good sign,.. a very _good_ sign.

"Shouldn't you be in bed, er,.. recovering I mean?" Katie amended her original train of thought, blushing even more so at the image that had splashed across her mind's eye. She's seen his naked, wounded torso and despite the wounds.. she'd definitely liked what she'd seen.

_Skinny, scrawny little Harry Potter had grown into himself quite nicely._

"There's recovery and there's recovering" he ventured with a dry chuckle, adding flirtatiously that.. "If you want me to get back in bed so you can make it all better, all ya had to do was ask, Katie?"

"W-What, but I.. huh?" Katie stammered before slapping at his arm whilst he guffawed. "Oh, you!"

Once his laughter began to subside, she found she couldn't contain herself any longer and asked the first of literally a 'thousand questions' that everyone had on their mind since the miracle of his return.

"What happened to the shy, stammering, gentle boy I used to know?" It wasn't exactly her most prominent inquiry, but it was a starting point and a seemingly innocuous one.

She was somewhat wrong in that his good humor fled and his face darkened slightly as her question took root in his mind, bringing up images of a past that he mostly wished he could forget.

"Lots of things, Katie and most of them unpleasant." he answered vaguely in a hollow tone of voice.

At seeing her fallen expression he put her at ease by asking. "I assume you and whomever it may concern know that I got trapped in the past?"

Katie nodded dolefully. "So many thought you'd run away or that you'd been captured and killed. It was years before Dumbledore, Hermione and few others were finally able to solve the mystery and longer still before we could even make an attempt to try and rescue you." she offered in half an apology for what he must have suffered.

Harry nodded at that, appearing to mull things over before offering in return. "I was hoping to shave off only a few minutes so that I could prevent my Godfather's death, but I screwed it up like I usually do, or did,.. when I used to be so foolishly impulsive." He smirked wistfully at that, gladdened that this was no longer the case and that experience had taught him the necessity of patience.

"I ended up in another age, one that I was sorely out of place in. I only had a few galleons and my wand to my name. The ministry jailed me at first, thinking I was some sort of subversive element. They're as paranoid and mistrustful a lot back then as they are still today. Anyway, once they decided that I wasn't some sort of spy they just took me for a common thief and cast me out into the streets without so much as a by your leave, let alone any promise of continued schooling let alone food or shelter. I was willing to work. I'd have done anything really, but they just scoffed at me. They said I was making up the whole 'time displacement' story to try and get attention. Sounds pretty familiar, doesn't it." He chuckled darkly.

Katie nodded her head in agreement, remembering the way Fudge and his toadies had vilified him as an attention seeking brat or tried to discredit him as delusional at the least

"I lived off the streets for the first few months, picked through garbage for what food I could find, even stole some times. It's amazing what you can lower yourself to when you're starving."

Katie's hand ghosted supportively to his shoulder, though he pretended not to notice it. He was more concerned with the slight snuffling and the way her eyes became moist. He hadn't meant to upset her.

"W-What about your family?" she stammered hopefully, thinking the Potter's would have never turned away one of their own.

He pulled a face at that. "I'd considered that too so I looked up the Potters. They thought I was some sort of con man or something. Can't blame them really as who'd buy a story like that, true or otherwise?" he scoffed. ""My Great- Great Uncle, Reginald; he at least gave me a chance and signed my on as a deck hand on one of his trade ships. The work was hard, but at least I was well fed and was able to make a bit of money. We traded with the Americas a lot and after several visits I got restless for something else so I took my chances in the states. I got myself into the Salem Institute, but was only able to afford a year's tuition. The Headmistress took pity on me and put me through an accelerated course and I was able to finish in just over a year. I got a job in the kitchens and was able to make enough to set out on my own after graduation. Everywhere you went everyone was advertising about life out west. They painted it like a dream come true, so I decided to head out with the rest of the fools that thought the land a veritable leprechaun's treasure-rife with gold. Truth is it was as hard a life as any you could imagine."

I didn't make it a month before I was thieved blind one night by natives. From then on I was starving again, but at least I knew enough magic to get by, otherwise I would have died a dozen times over. I stumbled upon a tribe of natives, who for all I knew could have been the ones that had robbed me in the first place, but they ended up taking pity on me and we became good friends over time. The fact that I'm standing here today is in no little way due entirely to their kindness." He left off wistfully smiling at these happier memories.

Riveted by the story so far, Katie prompted curiously. "Then what happened?"

Harry smirked at that, answering vaguely. "I was enslaved."

"Enslaved?!" Katie screeched wide eyed and gapping.

"Yeah, for a bit, but not long. This is where my story gets interesting, but we'll have to pick it up another time and we're about to be interrupted.

On cue Dumbledore, McGonagall and varied others barged onto the astronomy tower, shouting to their fellows that they'd successfully found the person they we're searching for.

Katie gapped at him in consternation, not fathoming how he could have possible known the headmaster and company would arrive before they had.

He merely shrugged his shoulders and answered vaguely with a smirk.. "It's a gift."

After a battery of tests which he sat meekly through so as not to prolong the agony by angering Madam Pomfrey further; he was officially discharged from the infirmary with many unanswered questions that the impatient, but still tenacious Healer was determined to glean at a later date.

* * *

An apparently oblivious to his surroundings; Harry Potter, sat in blue jeans and cavalry shirt pulled to one side displaying a hint of his hairy , well-muscled chest that Katie was trying and failing not to sneak glances at from her vantage point to his right. He was rocking quietly in front of Dumbledore's desk in a rocking chair that had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, surrounded by the remnants of the Order of Phoenix. Hermione was there staring questioningly at him, nearly bursting with curiosity, but determined to not usurp the Headmaster's authority in his own office.

Ron and the rest of the remaining Weasleys had made it to the relative safety of France and were secreted away by the Delacours. Hermione had managed to get word to them and vice versa, allaying the fears of both parties. Apparently, at hearing of his surprising return, many of them, especially Ron, were champing at the bit to return and take up the fight against Voldemort. He told her to send word to 'stay safe and heal whilst he did what needed doing'. She giving him a curious look at that and was beside herself as she desperately wanted to know just what he was planning,(if anything), to do. Though cautiously optimistic, even Hermione had to admit they'd or more properly-he, struck a serious blow to the opposition. On the surface his abilities seemed entirely muggle in nature, perhaps honed to a razor edge, but still mundane. That was on the surface, but underneath it all, Hermione suspected they'd summoned something extraordinary and things were about to get very interesting.

The fact that a living, breathing Guardian was seated before her was beyond astounding, even for Harry Potter.

Harry never once batted so much as an eye as Dumbledore hurled question after question his way regarding his unknown background since the time of his disappearance. A few times Katie Bell looked about to blurt something out, but she caught herself and feigned ignorance along with her peers, contenting herself with stealing coy glances his way when she thought that he didn't notice. Harry, for his part just sat rocking and idly whittling away with a Bowie knife that looked like it was made for severing limbs rather than whittling. Several members of the Order thought wrongly that he might accidently cut off a finger any moment as they watched him fashion what appeared to be an intricately designed wand.

Dumbledore was about to try yet another of his patented tacts when the door to his office burst open and an unwelcome blast from the past made his presence known.

"Headmaster…I have urgent news. I finally was able to glean the extent of the Dark Lord's losses, but not the er, actual perpetrators of the deed." Without missing a beat, Snape puffed himself up broadly as he recanted a total of the dark side's losses as if he himself were responsible for them. "Twenty seven Death Eaters were killed in total, some twice that number wounded along with the Dark Lord, himself, who was mortally wounded."

"No he wasn't." Harry answered coolly in contradiction.

Snape's beady black eyes turned his way, an insult on his lips already forming at having been interrupted.

With his hat tipped strategically low, Snape was unaware of the newcomer's identity, but that didn't stop him from still being him.

"If you don't know of what you speak than be silent, fool. I myself both saw and brewed a multitude of healing potions for the Dark Lord. He suffered some form of piercing hexes to both his right and left chest."

Due to the secrecy inherent in returning "Harry Potter" to the British Realm, even Snape was apparently unaware of the plan to _supposedly save_ the magical realm from terrorism.

Harry smirked at the irony that Dumbledore's prized confidant was kept in the dark for security's sake. Apparently Snape's loyalties were no longer without question.

Harry's rocking chair abruptly halted at the insult. The wooden wand, he was carving ivy vines into, was used to push up the brim of his Stetson giving Snape a view of his smoldering green eyes.

Snape's face went from curious to puzzlement to outright alarm in final recognition of just who was sitting before him.

"Potter!" he hissed out in utter contempt.

Harry nodded slightly in unnecessary answer, a smirk forming at the edge of his mouth.

"Voldemort is suffering from two gunshot wounds; one to each side of his chest. They are not mortal wounds per se as I knew that magical healing, if administered expediently, could successfully treat such though he would be quite a spell convalescing from his injuries."

"Gunshot wounds?" Snape sneered incredulously, still not wholly cottoning on. "No muggle could have possibly wounded someone as powerful as the dark lord with so crude and vulgar a device."

There were several intakes of breath as the room readied itself for what was to come and his foolish slight.

Snape barely registered having heard the faint rasp of leather before he was looking down the barrel of Harry's colt, his green eyes shining malevolently from behind the barrel's sight.

"It wasn't a muggle, but as far as that goes; I know many a muggle who could kill that malevolent imbecile and easily so. I found him easily dispatched myself."

"But you missed? Twenty seven dead and you missed the one person who most needed to die?" McGonagall scathed.

"I don't miss." Harry answered without the slightest hint of arrogance.

"Then why is the Dark Lord still alive?" Snape sneered incredulously.

"Because I want him that way, at least temporarily." he added the "temporarily" with cool certainty that had several in the room shuddering in dread.

"Why?" Remus asked, finally making his presence heard from the alcove next to Hermione.

Harry fixed Dumbledore with a long suffering look of disdain as he accused. "Never told them-huh?" he shook his head disappointedly as many around the room shot the headmaster questioning looks whilst McGonagall was the first to find her voice and ask: "Albus?"

The headmaster balked at answering shooting a pleading look Harry's way, beseeching his silence on the matter.

If he was worried about losing his support to panic then he was long past due as the majority of the once prodigious Order was whittled down to a few tenacious witches and wizards who were still valiantly fighting an already lost battle.

Harry smirked at the Headmaster's silent plea. "He doesn't want you to know how Voldemort has gone about securing his supposed immortality. That and he's probably worried that once my part in things is revealed that I'll bolt and all his precious planning and manipulations will have been a waste. That about right, Professor?" he sneered Dumbledore's title with what could be only described as the utmost contempt, shocking the room full of 'Dumbledore zealots'.

"Harry, please… I implore you…?" he attempted to dissuade Potter from revealing Voldemort's secrets openly, mostly for security's sake, but also so as not to lose his hold over his remaining supporters.

"That you've only done what has been done for the greater good?" Harry questioned doubtfully, shocking the others by his mistreatment of their idol. "Yes, I'm sure you've told yourself that many a long night when you plotted and schemed to offer me up as the sacrificial lamb."

"Show the headmaster some respect, Potter." Snape warned coming to his supposed meal ticket's defense.

"Why?" Potter asked innocently, the others in turn realizing that he was being completely candid and not just sarcastic as one might suppose. "I suppose that we could argue that his age alone is a valid reason to show a modicum of respect, but his actions belabor the point."

The room appeared more shocked and outraged than previously, though several, like Hermione, Remus and Katie, looked more puzzled and skeptical than anything else.

Something important was missing from the equation and whatever it was it was clear that Dumbledore, (by the way he balked and fidgeted nervously), did not wish to discuss the particulars in an open group.

"This is a topic best discussed in private so as not to…"

"Alarm the others?" Harry guessed, finishing the Headmaster's sentence. "I agree that the topic is alarming, but it is for all intents and purposes a moot point where I am concerned."

"I couldn't disagree more. You are the **crux** of the situation and always have been, my boy." His stressed the word **crux **knowingly, accurately guessing that Harry had become aware of the existence of Voldemort's horcruxes, though how this came about he couldn't possibly imagine. Dumbledore went on to placate to try and resume control of the situation and turn things to his desired advantage.

"Whilst I agree I have made many mistakes where you are concerned, the fact still remains that you are an integral component in permanently defeating Voldemort and certain sacrifices must be made for that to come about, distasteful as that may seem it is imperative for the- Greater Good." He stressed that last vehemently, surreptitiously hinting at his belief that Harry was to sacrifice himself to save everyone else.

Harry did not share his viewpoint.

He pulled his Stetson from his head and lifted his bangs off the right side of his forehead showing – unblemished flesh.

"It's gone and with it your sacrifice for the "Greater Good." Harry drew quotation marks in the air for sarcastic emphasis.

"Your scar- it's gone?!" Hermione nearly shouted in surprised happiness, many others joining her sentiments of surprise and relief that his connection with Voldemort, and the suffering it incurred, was at an end. They couldn't know how very right they were in that.

"B-But how?" The headmaster stammered in disbelief, starring at the unmarred skin of his forehead in awe.

Harry only smiled disarmingly and leaned back into his chair and resumed rocking. He kept the matter secret, refusing to divulge anything further on the matter. He did this solely because he knew it would aggravate Dumbledore more than anything else. If there was one thing he remembered it was that Dumbledore liked to have all the answers solely for his own selfish and arrogant reasons.

Selfish in that he knew knowledge was power and used his secrets to manipulate others.

Arrogant because he truly believed in his own propaganda in that only he; The Great Albus Dumbledore was solely capable of understanding and using said knowledge to its full benefit.

The man was truly a legend in his own mind as well as the wizarding public- both for the same reason in that he wished it so. Many hurried discussions broke out around the room though Harry ignored them as he held the headmaster's gaze in a look that clearly stated that the game was nearly over and that the headmaster was about to find himself in check-mate.

It was not a look that Dumbledore could have ever remembered having quailed beneath found it wholly dissatisfying.

Harry finished his ministrations with the wand he carved, passing a skeptical eye over the wood looking for any signs of imperfections. He made a little knick here and shaved off a hair there, but finally having seemingly satisfied, he put his knife away. He spun the finished wand in his hand as fast as he spun his colts and maybe a hair more so. Satisfied with the feel and balance, he pricked a finger on the tip of his Bowie, from where it stuck out of the sheath, at his waste, and rubbed a drop of his own blood over the wand. The wood appeared to soak up the blood, slowly turning it to a rich burgundy color, His eyes flashed and the ivy vines he'd carved turned emerald green, the same color of his eyes.

Every eye in the room was mesmerized with wonder and curiosity as he went about his task with keen interest and a sharp eye for detail.

His spare hand went to his the medicine bag around his neck and retrieved a pinch of the strange paste he carried with him at all times. He rubbed the paste over the wand and chanted something foreign under his breath. The wand glowed a a silvery hue and when the glow faded the wand appeared perfectly finished and ready for use, which was of course impossible as there was no core within the wood to focus magic from its user.

It was no more than a replica, a well fashioned one, but a replica just the same. Still it was a nice bit of workmanship and would make a good practice wand for a child that wasn't old enough to yet cast with a real wand as most assumed was his intent.

Snpae for one, scoffed at what he considered a complete waste of time and energy.

"Katie?" Harry called the dark skinned beauty forward proffering the wand to her, handle first, which elicited another scoff from Snape at what he perceived as a foolish attempt at gaining attention.

_As if they would be fooled into believing he could fashion a magical wand from plain wood and no magical core?_

Harry ignored the man's impatience and placed the wand in Katie's slightly trembling hand. "Sorry you lost your own wand back at the ministry. Since we have no ready options available to procure another more compatible wand, as we can hardly go strolling down Diagon Alley in the current clime, this will hopefully be a better fit than some Death Eater's twig."

Katie's eyes went wide in wondrous surprise when the wand warmed in her hand the moment it made contact. She shrieked in happiness when she swished the wand and the room filled with stars and glimmering bubbles.

Gasps of surprise and stunned disbelief filled the room as Katie glowed with happiness, the wand Harry had fashioned not only powerful, but obviously a perfect match for her magic, not to mention aesthetically beautiful.

"That'll do for now." Harry commented in satisfaction, rising from his chair and motioning for Remus to join him as he moved toward the exit of Dumbledore's office. Witches and wizards barely registered his leaving as they were still babbling over the wondrous and seemingly impossibly viable gift. Dumbledore , himself, kept running his wand over Harry's fashioning, becoming more and more astounded with each diagnostic result.

"I wonder, Miss Bell if I might borrow that wand for a bit of experimentation?" he inquired hopefully, but was soundly rebuffed when Katie blatantly told him to: "Get your own!"

"That's a neat bit of a trick." Remus complimented as they made there way down the hall from the Headmaster's office.

Harry shrugged, shooting his friend a smirk as he added cunningly. "Useful for Katie, but it should also hold Dumbledore's immediate attention while you and I see to other matters."

Remus chuckled at his pseudo nephew's ingenuity. "So what's up?" he asked at length.

Harry paused to swipe a nearby painting of a portly monk across the eyes telling him to: "Beat it, for I get me some paint thinner and do a job of it."

The monk howled epitaphs in his wake as he sought sanctuary in distant paintings.

"Now that Dumbledore's spies know how things stand, we can talk more freely." Harry explained to which Remus nodded his understanding though he admonished, "Such behavior and to a man of the cloth?"

Harry sniggered at that. "By the way he was yelping I'd say I reconfirmed his faith."

The both shared a chuckle at that. Once their shared humor subsided, Harry got down to business.

"You get wind of anything this morning toward the south side of the castle grounds near the Forbidden Forest?"

Remus pondered the question absently until Harry reiterated. "Near where Hagrid's hut used to be?" he clarified.

Remus noted the way his friend's face fell slightly at that. "He never gave up on you, you know, not for a second. He searched everywhere and anywhere, hoping he'd find you**.** "

"And got himself killed for his trouble." Harry added with a note of finality. Hagrid had died searching for Harry in their present time, having run afoul of one of Voldemort's death squads. Gryffindor and good man that he was; Hagrid took the lot of the scum with him.

"He loved you." Remus added simply, as if that explained everything.

"And I owe him for that and a whole lot more." Harry acknowledged to which Remus grabbed his shoulder bracingly in support.

"We'll see he's avenged, you and I." Remus offered the younger friend accepted with a firm nod of agreement.

"Regarding this morning, to answer your question…?" Remus returned to the subject of previous. "I was otherwise occupied with er…"

"The company of a rather pretentious, albeit clumsy auror?" Harry surmised with a smirking hand.

Remus swatted his arm but otherwise made no attempt to deny the assumption.

Getting to the point, Harry explained that he'd causght just a hint of movement at the tree line that could have been anything and probably was benign but,.. his gut was telling him otherwise.

"What do you think it was?' Remus asked suspiciously, himself now eyeing the distant tree line through the window.

Harry cocked his head in thought as he scratched at the stubble on his chin.

"Something that either doesn't want to be revealed, and or, doesn't like the sunlight?" Harry guessed.

Remus growled low in the throat at that, a hint of his wolf's persona coming through. Disappointedly, he acknowledged,.."I won't be any help as it's still several days until the full moon." the man had immediately cottoned on to Harry's suspicions.

Harry smiled a cunning grin of knowing as he suggested. "That's if you want to wait and go through all the bother."

"If you've got a better idea I'm all ears." Remus ventured curiously especially given the way Harry was looking calculatingly at him.

"How'd you like to change and still keep your wits about you?"

"Wolf's bane potion is good and all, but it still only effective on the full moon when I transform.

"I aint talkin _wolf's bane_ and there's no reason you have to wait for the full moon, let alone go through all the pain that comes with a forced change?"

"What then?" Remus asked puzzled, splaying his hands, entreating his friend to continue.

"Changing when you want, whenever you want, day or night and without pain; that sound like something you'd be interested in?" Harry enticed.

"Who do I have to kill and how soon?" he all but begged for the opportunity.

Nodding his head, Harry draped an arm over his friend's shoulder and detailed what he had in mind, starting with.. "You ever heard of skin walkers?"

* * *

In another part of the castle, Katie, Hermione, Tracy Davies and a few other refugee ladies from nearly the same year were holding court discussing Katie's good fortune.

"Ohmygod, Kaite,..I can't believe,.. if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes I would have never believe it?" Tracy gushed, staring pointedly at the wand clutched tightly in her friend's fist that was practically humming with power.

Katie swept the wand in an arc, squealing in joy as rose petals drifted down around the room, filling it with their sweet scent.

"You'll have to keep that one in mind for your wedding night." Hermione suggested with a wink toward her friend, which had half the ladies in the room looking puzzled, the other half sharing knowing looks and bright smiles toward Katie.

"Huh?" Katie asked dumbly.

"Harry, you,.. wedding night…sex!" Tracy snapped her fingers in front of her friend's face getting her attention as she explained.

Katie's face blushed crimson. "What, but we,.. he..?" she stammered embarrassedly.

"He's got a thing for you." Hermione commented knowingly.

"And how." Susan Bones added smiling brightly, glad to find something to celebrate in all the misery they'd endured over the past several was until the clouds parted and a ray of sunlight burst through in the form of a guardian-Harry Potter.

"No he doesn't?" Katie argued without enthusiasm as she was fervently wishing otherwise.

"Yes-He-Does." Tracy disagreed succinctly, poking her with her finger to accentuate every word.

Hermione nodded going on to explain. "He used to sneak looks at you all the time in the common room when you weren't looking."

"He did?" Katie gasped in surprise.

Hermione nodded. "Ron said that there were only two reasons that Harry played quidditch. His two great loves, as it were: Flying and Katie Bell."

Katie gapped stupidly at that as the rest of the witches around her giggled.

"R-Really?"Katie stammered hopefully, a slight grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Uh-Huh." Hermione gushed teasingly.

"That wand proves it." Tracy pointed out. "It's like an engagement present."

"How do you figure that?" Katie asked incredulously, staring at the beautiful wand in her hand and not even remotely seeing the connection.

"He was looking at you the whole time he was carving it with that big arse knife of his. I swear I though he was gonna hack a finger off any second. You couldn't see from your vantage point, but he was looking at you from beneath the brim of that sexy hat he wears." Tracy colored slightly at that.

"It true." Susan confirmed. "I swear that when he, well.. whatever he did, but when his eyes flashed and the ivy on your wand turned the same color as his eyes- It was so cool."

"And romantic." Hermione confirmed. "It was like he was painting some masterpiece on a canvas that only his heart could see."

Susan began fanning herself at that, her eyes shifting between the knowing, wistful look on Hermione's face and the hope filled eyes of Katie Bell.

"But we just.. he's been gone for over ten years and even before that we hardly ever spoke and he, those eyes… and wow…?" Katie was rambling now as her heart and her mind warred for dominance.

Hermione smirked and added more fuel to the fire. "His Godfather said that Potter men are blessed with an uncanny knack at finding their perfect match, their soul mate. They usually do so at an early age and once that happens they're yours forever. His father never wanted or even looked at another woman after he met Harry's mother that first time and I'm given to understand that was when they were first sorted into houses. He used to get teased mercilessly by his friends over it, but he never cared because he loved her that much, even though she didn't return those same feelings until several years later when they were seventh years."

"But it's been ten years and even before that we never were more than even just friendly acquaintances toward one another. Why didn't he ever, you know.. show any interest or anything?" Katie balked.

"He was terribly shy back then and maybe even then it was nothing more than a passing fancy or a crush. Now, however,…?" she left off pointedly.

It was sometime before Katie found her voice, though she was obviously not wholly convinced though a part of her wished she was. "But he's a _guardian_ he could…?"

"He can do whatever he wants." Tracy interrupted pointedly. "Guardians are a law onto themselves. He could drag you off and have his way with you any time he wants and there's no one to say boo about it." Tracy sniggered at the picture she'd elicited as several ladies sucked in an apprehensive breath and the other half almost growled predatorily at the notion.

The voice of reason, however, interrupted their plaintive musings. "Harry, is not going to drag anyone off and have his way with them." Hermione scoffed.

"Awe…" several ladies vented their disappointment at that.

Hermione shot them a look that clearly said she was a bit disappointed herself, but continued to placate. "While I admit he's far different than what I, er,.. any of us may have expected, he's still Harry Potter and despite whatever adversity he's faced in the time he's been gone; he's a noble soul and my father used to say that noble souls aren't made, but born into the world. Harry will do what's right for everyone, even at his own expense. It's up to you, Katie, to see that he understands that there's more to life than just service to others. I've done a bit of research and _Guardian_s are not forbidden love and marriage.

"What do you mean?" Katie asked for clarification.

Hermione proceeded to detail the magical vow Harry had made in that he would forgo Guardianship after Voldemort was gone if he was asked by the public, namely Hermione herself, to do so. He'd left it to Hermione's unflagging conscience to decide when the time came.

The room filled with gasps of wonder that he could and would so readily abdicate such absolute and legal power.

Tracy brought everyone back to reality and Katie more so than the others. "Bottom line is that he's showing some form of interest and it's up to you, Katie, to reciprocate if you so desire?"

"In other words: Get off that shapely behind and use it for what God intended-bait!" Susan Bones growled out suggestively the women clapping and laughing along in a show of solidarity.

Her resolve was hardening but she was still hesitant, probably more so becausde this was Harry Potter they were conspiring about. 'The boy who lived', 'the chosen one' and now-a 'guardian'- _for Circe's sake?!_

She grasped Hermione's arm and pleaded for a bit of inside information. "Is there anything else you can suggest, a bit of advice maybe?"

Hermione pursed her lips, pausing thoughtfully. "Harry was and is ferociously courageous, but he was also very loyal, kind and unassuming. He was very clueless regarding women and as we both know witches are another matter entirely. What I guess I'm trying to say is that: Harry was never very confident regarding his emotions and feelings. He would profess that he didn't know what _love _was- not really, however,… If there was one thing that I or anyone close to him knew for a certainty, it was that nobody knew it better."

Katie's hand pulled back from Hermione's arm and covered the gasp that escaped her mouth as the witches around them all had various positive, wistful reactions to that.

* * *

"I don't think I'm going to get this?" Remus complained, his disappointment evident.

"You'll get it." Harry reassured his pseudo uncle.

"Not by tonight?" Remus pointed out incredulously.

Harry snickered at that. "I never said you'd get it by tonight. Rome wasn't built in a day-Remus." He guffawed loudly at that. "Get it.. Rome..? Built..? Romulus and Remus?" Har-Har-Har!" he slapped his thigh as another wave of laughter doubled him over.

"Yeah, I get it. You're a riot you are." Remus sneered. He'd heard that one before, thanks to his old pal Sirius who was the last person who should have ever been making fun of someone's name, what with being named after a dog star.

"Figures I'd get stuck with the least humorous Marauder- if there even was such a thing?' Harry mused as his mirth dried up.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Very droll"

Harry just shrugged and reiterated his previous point. "It's gonna take a bit to learn to transform at will and you're going to need a bit of guidance initially. I'm just trying to get you to lower the block on your transformation. Right now you're a slave to the lunar cycle, but that will change soon enough. First I'm going to force the change a few times so you get a feel for it , then I'm going to bring in a bit of _expert advice _to offer a bit of counseling and direction."

"How exactly are you going to _force_ the transformation and just what expert are you referring to: McGonnagal?" Remus returned uncertainly on both counts.

Harry grinned knowingly at his friend's dilemma. "My how the tables have turned?" At seeing his friend's puzzled expression he explained. "It must suck going full circle and once again being the student- eh.. Professor?"

Remus scowled at that, partially because that was exactly the sort of frustration he was feeling just now.

"At least I never laughed at you and always gave you chocolate after you tried to produce a patronus." He reminded his younger friend.

Sobering at that, Harry immediately goaded. "Awe, does wolfie want a treat?" he proceeded to pull a bone from behind his back and brandish it temptingly at his friend. "Here boy-Here boy… get the bone- get the bone!" he threw the bone across the lawn and smirked knowingly at seeing Remus take a sudden step in the proffered bone's direction before pulling up short, chastising himself for almost giving into his wolfish instincts.

Harry stalked over and clapped a hand on his friend's shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about ,Remus. Let go of you inhibitions, your humanity if you will, and let the wolf take over."

"Remus pulled a worried face at the notion. "That's what I'm afraid of. I can't control the wolf without the wolf's bane potion. I could hurt or even kill someone."

"You won't."

"How can you be so sure?" Remus asked skeptically, wishing he could believe that.

Harry patted his friend's shoulder reassuringly. "All transformation comes from the soul Remus. You're a good man, a noble soul, and your wolf is the same. It won't kill unless it has to, same as you, because you will be in control. The wolf is just another facet of your magic, which is just another part of the whole- yourself. James was always described to me as a proud and courageous stag- a leader. Padfoot was a reflection of the hound that Sirius was want to be, but for all of that he was a faithful friend. Peter's rat was the reflection of his innermost character: a conniving, scavenging, craven survivor who let fear rule rather than guide him. Wolves are intelligent creatures as are you, Remus."

"I wish I had your faith." Remus rasped hopefully.

Harry smirked knowingly at that. "You already do, Remus. You already do."

That said he suggested his friend get some food and rest as it was going to be an interesting night.

"What're you gonna do?" Remus balked, not wanting to leave Harry stuck doing all the work. He really didn't like the whole role reversal thing.

"Whittle a bit, maybe make a friend or two whilst I get a feel for the place again, maybe even say a prayer for a bountiful harvest." He left off airily as he tipped his hat and turned in the direction of the Forbidden Forest.

"Maybe I'd better come along just in ca…"

"I'll be just fine, Remus." Harry interjected, tapping his palm to one of his colt handles suggestively.

* * *

It was nearly sunset and a lone figure was rocking gently back and forth surveying the castle grounds from a strategic point of advantage atop the Astronomy tower. Atop meaning just that as Harry was as near the top as he could possibly get without his rocking chair tipping off the edge and even then one would've expected the liberal use of sticking charms if it wasn't for the fact that this would have prevented his rocking motion.

As it was Katie couldn't fathom what was keeping him upright despite his legendary balance on a broomstick.

Across his lap was a long barreled rifle that he had canceled the shrinking charm on after retrieving it from his saddle bags. A pair of ammunition belts were strung crisscross over his chest with the shells ready to hand for reloading at a split second notice. He wished he had brought two such rifles with him, but three days had not proved sufficient to find such a well crafted and highly in demand weapon and he was loathe to settle for an inferior replacement. Even though the Winchester was a fine weapon, it didn't have the range and power of a Henry rifle.

Katie's scrutinizing eyes gapped wide when she followed the sound of the creaking and found him at his sentry point for that was exactly what it was and it didn't take a tactical genius much of a leap to realize he was waiting in obvious anticipation. He was dressed in his usual garb only she noted the glint of a reflection from the toe of his boot and the spurs that he now wore, all of which appeared to be made of silver. Absently she thought this quite odd given that he was perched on a rooftop instead of a horse what with the spurs, but she chalked it up to just another of his many idiosyncrasies that usually had a very usefu purpose once that purpose was revealed.

_Merlin only knew what the man was up to this time._

She shielded her eyes from the setting sun that was at his back to try and see his face though between the sunset and his Stetson she couldn't quite make out his shadowed face. "What're you doing?" she asked, stating the obvious for no more reason than it was a place to start their conversation.

"Waiting" he returned stoically.

"Waiting for what?" she continued undaunted despite his short reply.

"Waiting for something bad to happen."

"Are we going to be attacked?" she quickly asked, starting to get worried.

"Not you, me or more aptly put: Remus, though I intend to make my presence known. Share the wealth, so to speak." he chuckled dryly at his jest.

"Remus?... but where is…."

**AHHH-WOOOOO**

Her question was cut off by a long, lonely howl from within the forest to which Harry smiled in dread anticipation.

He tipped up the brim of his hat giving his eyes an unfettered view as he cocked his rifle, advising Katie to leave as he readied himself. "Katie, I think it's time you stepped in for the night. We can continue getting acquainted tomorrow, 'k?"

Katie's hands brushed nervously down her sides, fighting to keep from grabbing at the handle of the new wand which she kept in a wrist sheath. Her eyes shifted between Harry and the distant darkening forest. "But how can you even see…?"

**AHHHH-ROOOOO**

This time the wolf's howl had more of a blood thirsty predatory sound to it as if it was on the trail of some game.

Thinking better of the situation,Harry pulled off his hat and tossed it down to Katie. "Take care of that for me won't ya? I'll be along to collect it in the morning, now off with ya." He directed, his shoulder tilting meaningfully toward the door she'd arrived by. "Lock it mind?" He reminded as Katie hesitantly did as instructed, trusting that he knew what he was doing, though she was becoming increasingly alarmed as several shrieks from within the forest were no answering the wolf's challenging howl.

After the door closed and his ears caught the sound of the bolt being tremulously throw in place; Harry did a quick sign of the cross. "For what we are about to receive let us be truly grateful."

Harry smiled grimly as he vanished his chair and lowered himself onto his belly, bringing the barrel tip of his rifle to bear.

"Bring em in, Remus." He whispered as his right eye sighted an as yet nonexistent target in calm anticipation.

The howls of the wolf changed in timber and took on a more anxious almost frightened sound and Harry could hear the sound of frenzied pursuit now tracking the wolf instead as it tried desperately to retreat. It's hunt forgotten, now only its inherent instinct for self-preservation fueled it's madly pounding legs as it broke the tree line.

Katie was right about one thing-it was damn dark out this time of year, not that it would matter to him.

His prey, on the other hand, were creatures that existed solely within night's warm embrace.

That embrace was about to take on a distinct chill and they were about to receive night's final embrace, if he had anything to say about it.

Harry tapped a finger to his temple and muttered an incantation known only to a certain lost tribe of magical folk that had taken in and nutured him when he'd been lost and destitute. By taken in he meant: enslaved,.. but why cry over spilt milk.

His green eyes took on a strange silvery gleam and suddenly the dark sky was alit with a myriad of colors to his enhanced eyesight. Day light alone never boasted such intense clarity, even in the brightest of sunlight.

A large black werewolf with a spattering of grey flecks in its coat was running across the expansive lawns of Hogwarts as if all hell was on its heels. As fast as the werewolf was it was slowly losing its lead over the pack of blood thirsty vampires that was bearing down on it. From Harry's vantage point he did some rough calculations and grimaced in the realization that the werewolf would not make it to the border of safety he'd laboriously established this afternoon in planning for tonight's_ culling_.

Now, to say that Harry was more than a fair hand with pistols was a glaring understatement to any that had the pleasure of first hand witnessing his unique talents. He was just as good with a rifle, however, these vermin were moving fast and their feral lust to be first to the kill had them vying against each other which meant they were constantly weaving about to try and get a better vantage point on their fellows.

In layman's terms: "Shite", Harry swore under his breath knowing that he'd have to be very lucky just to hit the bastards let alone make a kill shot to the head or heart.

That left him with the lesser of two choices; plan B.

He'd have to buy Remus time to make the boundary and then take the fight up close and personal with the survivors.

Unfortunately, he'd carved the majority of his supply of wooden bullets for the Henry rifle and had only enough left to fill his pistols leaving nothing available for even a single reload.

That gave him twenty four rounds, which he'd only originally intended for mercy's sake; to finish off the wounded.

By his reckoning there were a bit more than two dozen vampires ghosting across the lawns in pursuit of his friend and he doubted that Remus alone could handle that many left overs.

"Always the hard way." he grumbled as he took aim down the sights of his rifle and set to work.

**Blam..Blam…Blam..Blam**

The distinct and ear splitting repeat of the fifty caliber repeater shook the castle's windows, initially freezing its occupants in the dread fear of misunderstanding.

"What the bloody hell?!" One of the halls diner's voiced what most of them were already about to exclaim in fear wrought surprise.

"It must be giants trying to break down the gate." A witch screeched, pulling her children close and staring wide eyed at the Great Halls imposing doors, already fretting they would never hold when the supposed giants arrived.

Wands filled hands as several lieutenants amongst the Order's remnants barked out orders and mobilized into action.

**Blam..Blam…Blam…**

"Come on Remus,… come on!" Harry barked under his breath as another two vampires howled and went down only to immediately right themselves in that strange fluid like way they moved and pelted back after their pack as it closed in on the tiring werewolf.

Thus far Harry had managed to keep the closets pursuers at bay giving Remus some breathing room. The wooden bullets were hurting the vampires but not killing them as he'd yet to make a head shot or pierce one of the creature's hearts. This was mostly by devise, but at this point, when they were so close to the boundary, dropping a few permanently would be a good thing as they moved with a speed and grace that was inherent in the more mature vampires. Those that were newly turned did not recover quite so fast from being pierced with wood, nor were they this fast. A coulpe of the buggers were even able to take to the air briefly and glide a bit… this was something that only the more mature and exponentially more deadly vamps could do.

**Blam…Blam…**

"It's Harry!" Katie Bell announced in alarm, skidding into the Hall with her wand drawn. "He…He and Remus…V-Vampires…" she gasped in report as she tried to catch her breath, bent over with her hands on her knees, struggling to pull in more air.

"Vampires!" several voices rang out even more worriedly than previoulys whilst others looked more revolted than actually fearful.

"Calm yourselves!" Dumbledore barked out, fanning his hands emploring the crowd to return to their seats as he placated further.

"Do not panic. The castle is in lockdown mode and I'm sure that Guardian Potter has the matter well in hand."

"Are you mad?" his second scathed, looking at her aged friend and mentor as if he'd gone completely senile.

"Vampires-Albus?" she reiterated in alarm. "Fighting vampires at night is sheer folly. It's never been done!"

"Oh, it's been done, though never very successfully I grant you." He returned bracingly.

"You can't leave them out there –alone?" Hermione Granger pleaded from his other side.

Dumbledore sighed and his eyes lost some of their twinkle as the rapport of Harry's rifle still rattled the windows ominously as he reaped an unholy harvest upon the night stalkers outside.

"What would you have me do?" he beseeched in return. "I am doing as I was instructed to do by Harry, himself. Even I cannot disobey the command of a Guardian and he was most clear in his threat of what would befall me if I should do so." There was a note of intense trepidation connected to that last and his eyes went vacant at the recollection.

Hermione gapped, along with McGonagal at the headmaster's worried state.

_What could Harry Potter have threatened someone like Dumbledore with that he would so blindly place his beloved school under the Guardian's command?_

Harry tossed aside his rifle and scrabbled to his feet. Remus had about a two length lead and at the rate they were traveling; the vampires would hit the boundary in less than a few seconds. He put his fingers to his lips and blew a long shrill whistle that echoed out across the night sky. Trusting in his friends, he launched himself feet first down the castle roof, sliding on his backside toward the ledge and a drop of some hundred feet or more to the ground below.

He hit the ledge and in a leap of faith spread his legs wide as he vaulted out into the dark expanse with only a hard stop waiting on the unforgiving ground below.

"Ughhh!" he grunted on impact with the thestral's back. The creature he'd befriended only this afternoon had answered his call faithfully a trait for which the creatures were well known, as was this particular thestral as it was the very same one that had carried his younger self to the Ministry nearly eleven years ago. He could tell by the star like blemish it had beneath its left eye.

"Good boy, Starlight. "Harry complimented the horse like creature patting the side of its leathern neck appreciatively as the horse like creature neighed low in it's throat.

Screams of pain and outrage filled the night as the vampires crossed the line of the boundary some hundred meters or more away.

Some of the creatures burst into flame and crumpled to ash in a heartbeat whilst others shrieked and clawed madly at their pale faces and blood red eyes as smoke rose from their blistering flesh, the very ground seemed to be roasting them alive.

This was_ hallowed ground_.

Harry had spent part of his day performing a sacramental blessing over a section of the lawn, making of it a deadly trap for the unholy denizens of the night. Muggle movies were wrong in that Vampires were repelled by religious icons, though sacred ground both weakened and physically hurt them, thus they avoided churches, grave yards and the like.

**Blam-Blam-Blam-Blam….**

Dozens of faces were glued to the outer windows watching enrapt as Harry Potter swooped down out of the night sky aboard a thestral as he unloaded his pistols into Vampires as they were struggling to rise from the ground whilst Remus Lupin, in his werewolf form, harried their flanks, herding the foul creatures into a tighter group so that Harry would have an easier time dispatching the fiends

Heads exploded and the remains burst into flame lighting the area for meters around as Harry's face lite up with each discharge of his firearm, hovering above the massacre.

Some few tried to break away thinking to make the safety of the distant tree line only to be dragged down by werewolf jaws and razor sharp claws. One managed to leap snarling into the air, intent to dislodge the thestral's rider from its back.

A glint of silver flashes as Harry wheeled his mount about and his silver spurred boot heel tore out the creatures throat sending it tumbling down to the lawn where its blood hissed and spit on contact with the sacred ground. Finally it stilled and burst into flame, igniting one of its fellows along with it. This second inflamed vampire whirled madly about in panic tearing and gouging at its fellow pack members in its desperation to escape its burning torment.

**Blam-Blam-click**

"Damn!" Harry swore as his pistol announced the end of its usefulness.

He leapt from the thestral's back and into the dying fray. His Bowie knife slammed up to the hilt down into one hapless creature's left shoulder, breaking his fall. The creature screamed an unearthly wail as he tore his knife blade free and the vampire crumpled to the ground, igniting on impact with the cooling grass that was like acid to the creatures.

His duster whirled about him dancing on the breeze as he twisted out of the path of one vampire and slashed another across the throat with his left spur in a perfectly timed wheel kick that sent his foe spinning into the night. By the sudden feral growl of pleasure and the tearing sound of rending flesh as the creature gurgled in terror… Remus must have sportingly finished the night fiend.

Harry's Bowie slashed and stabbed, its enchanted blade glowing a silvery hue from beneath its iron wood back. Its design readily apparent to the onlookers glued to the castle's windows that were clouding over from moisture of so many exhalations.

"Holy shite!" One gasped in awe as the last of the vampires fell beneath Harry's blade.

"What's he doing now? One asked, wiping the condensation from his breath off the window to try and get a better view.

"It..It looks like one of them is still alive?" one of the onlookers commented uncertainly.

"It burns…It Burns!" The wounded vampire wailed in misery as Harry cast and immobilizing charm over the vampire. It wouldn't hold the creature forever, but then again, the creature's survival rate was pretty low and dropping off the scale with each passing moment.

Harry tipped back his Stetson and wiped a sleeve across his sweaty brow to try and keep it from stinging as it ran into his eyes. His hat had absorbed a great deal of perspiration, but even its cotton headband liner could only hold so much and tonight's activities, while brief, had been intense.

"I expect it does." he commented darkly as he conjured up a chair and planted the legs of it across the pale creature's writhing chest, further locking it in place.

"What's your name?" Harry asked, leaning slightly forward lso that one of the chair's braces bit cruelly into the vampire's chest and neck.

"In life I was Edmund Gwynn, but that was long ago and my mortal family has long since ceased."It bit out challengingly, knowing his captor could not use and familial relation against him.

"I could give a rat's arse about you past,.. what's your vampire name?"

"I..I am called L-Lysander." The creature hesitated, but gave in, deciding there could be no harm in this simple tidbit of information.

"What clan do you belong to?" Harry continued coolly.

"My clan lies dead about me, scum. I am alone now." The vampire spat back in utter contempt.

"That's a shame." Harry said sympathetically, his tone anything but. "I'm gonna make you a one time, non-negotiable offer, Lice. You tell me how many other clans of vamps Voldemort has command and where they're located and I'll turn you loose…"

Seeing that the vampire was about to argue the validity of his promise Harry held up a finger in warning, silencing the creature as he continued. "… with the proviso that you never again prey on humans. Cows, dogs rats, whatever strikes your fancy is fine, but no humans- got it?"

"And if I refuse?" The vampire challenged staring daggers up at his tormentor.

Harry pulled a small crystal vial from the breast pocket of his duster and held it meaningfully over the vampires face. The vampire's slit like nose sniffed before it's head pulled back in revulsion and it's fangs protruded threateningly to try and ward Harry away.

Harry smirked a cold, cunning look of appreciation for the creature's discomfort. "Then this holy water is the last thing you'll ever drink. Personally, I'm sorta hoping you take that option as I'm curious just now. I've seen what holy water does to a vampires skin many times, but I'd really like to see what happens if a fanger has some poured down his yap?" he chuckled darkly at that as the vampire writhed and twisted, struggling to break the charm that was still barely holding it in place.

A feral growl to his left told the vampire that escape was probably not going to happen as Remus loped in bearing his fangs threateningly.

"Hmm, seems that my friend here wants first dibs? Maybe I'll let him gnaw on you a bit until you're feeling more receptive."

The vampires face paled dramatically at that which was no easy feat as the creature was already ghostlike.

He readily divulged the names and locations of two other clans as his own instinct for self-preservation was suddenly quite overpowering. Harry couldn't blame them as the animosity between vamps and werewolves went back thousands of years and had only grown more virulent over time.

Harry eased back his chair and was about to cancel the charm, or at least the vampire thought he was.

"How will you know whether or no I've kept my part of the bargain. I could feed on humans till my heart swelled to the size of head and you would never know." It challenged sarcastically.

"Oh, I'll know alright." Harry confided as confused the creature more by asking…"Did Voldemort mark you like the rest of his gang of fools?"

The vampire bared his fangs and hissed venomously. "He did not. He considers us beneath mere wizards, besides, our bodies heightened healing process will not hold the mark on our person. It would heal before it could set in and activate.

"That's what I thought?" Harry confirmed his suspicion as he pulled out his Bowie knife. Without warning he carved a runic symbol into the creature as it hissed and twisted beneath him trying to escape the maddening pain. "Your body won't be able to heal this as the blade is imbued with both silver and ironwood." He explained as he finished carving the rune. He then turned the knife on himself and made a twin of the carving, only miniture by comparison, on his forearm, letting the blood from the creature stain it before dipping the tip of his blade into his own blood and jabbing it back into the carved symbol on the vampire. The rune flashed molten red on the creature and blue on Harry's arm.

"If a single drop of human blood traverse your fanged gab, I'll know." He warned. "All I'll need to do is touch my wand to this symbol and I'll be able to find you no matter where you hide. When that happens…" Harry brandished his knife threateningly with a cold leer of anticipation. The vampire's yellowed eyes went wide in fear and it shook its head desperately in understanding. "I'll also be able to call you in return and you'll feel an irresistible pull drawing you back to me if and when I should have need of you." He smirked cunningly at that.

"You tricked me Human." The vampire snapped in contempt.

"Not so. " Harry argued. "I am letting you go." He pointed out. "That's not to say I might not get lonesome for your company somewhere down the road." He chuckled darkly.

Harry eased back his chair and cancelled the immobilizing charm with a wave of his hand. He remained in his seat, forcing the vampire to wriggle out from beneath him to win back its freedom; it was a simple reminder of who was in charge.

With a last snarl of contempt, that turned to a yelp of fear when Remus snapped his jaws snapped threateningly in return, the vampire slunk away into the night.

"Why'd he let that one go?" Susan Bones asked no one in particular, her face still pressed to the windows like dozens of her fellow refugees.

"I'd say he's probably got what he needed and besides he may have just made an ally or at the least an unwilling pawn that may come in handy down the road." Hermione suggested, satisfying the others as many nodded their agreement with her summation, which was as usual, spot on.

About ten minutes later a pair of weary and hungry men strolled into the castle, despite the many charms that supposedly had the castle secured for the night. They made their way into the Hall thinking they'd hit up the elves for some food and about a galleon of fire whiskey to wash it down.

They hadn't made it two steps into the Great Hall when they pulled up short at the hundreds of eyes staring at them with varying states of awe and appreciation.

"What?" Harry asked, making a show of checking over his clothes thinking he must have missed a bloody stain or two.

His head shot back up and both he and Remus gapped in surprise when the entire Hall rose and applauded their efforts.


End file.
